


Questions of my childhood

by nishiki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, But only in the last chapter, Castiel tries his best to keep Dean save, Childhood Memories, Comatose Dean, Dean's childhood memories, Dysfunctional Family, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family History, Family Issues, Gen, Guardian Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Homophobic John Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester has some regrets, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John is an asshole but he is no monster, John meets Adam a lot sooner, Kid Adam Milligan, Kid Sam Winchester, Michael too, Naomi is Still a Bitch, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV John Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Repressed Bisexuality, Secret second family, Selfish John Winchester, Teen Dean Winchester, Warnings May Change, bittersweet end, ghost hunting with Sammy is a bad idea, or how not to hunt ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: A ghost hunt gone terribly wrong leads to John Winchester needing to reevaluate his role as a father to his two young sons Sam and Dean. This fic deals with childhood memories and the question whether it would have been better for Sam and Dean had their dad abandoned them.  Or in other words: the presence of Adam Milligan in John's life, prompts him to rethink his actions in life and towards his older sons.





	1. Prolog

**1979 - Lawrence, Kansas**

John Winchester was a simple man. He had never dreamed of big achievements in his life, never dared to believe to be something but a soldier or a mechanic at best ever since his father had left him behind and never returned for him. And ever since he had left the navy and met the girl of his dreams, Mary Campbell, a girl with the face of an angel with golden locks and bright green eyes, he had dreamed of nothing more than getting her to accept his sorry ass in marriage. He had been perfectly contempt with his life and his job as a mechanic, even with the disdain Mary’s father had felt for him before his untimely death. He had been willing to deal with all of that if it meant to have Mary in his life.

Funny enough, they hadn't liked each other from the beginning. Quite the contrary, actually. They had despised one another as they had first met but someday something had suddenly changed and ever since that happened, John’s whole world had been revolving around Mary Campbell, this fierce and strong-willed woman that was so very different than most girls he had met before.

After she had said yes to him finally, his dreams had expanded a little, became a bit more daring, in his eyes at least although many people would probably not call it daring what he had dreamed of. A nice house with a white picket fence in the front, in a quiet and friendly neighborhood where everyone knew everyone else, where children would play together on the road, and where the neighbors would invite them over for barbeque and dinner from time to time, a house filled with love and laughter, a cozy home to return to after a long exhausting day of lying underneath dirty old cars and his wife who would be waiting for him with dinner.

That was really the most daring his dreams had ever been and he would have been completely fine with just achieving that in his life. He had never dreamed of creating something like a legacy, of having children to carry on the name of his own broken family. What legacy would there be to carry on anyway? The Winchester name was really nothing of great worth or honor, nothing that was worth carrying on at least. Maybe a part of him had even feared that he would follow in his father’s footsteps if he would have children, that he would someday just leave everything behind and never come back and that his kids would have to go through the same shit he had gone through.

It had been Mary and him against the rest of the world for a while and he had been happy with that.

He had never hoped for something more perfect than this life with her at his side and yet Mary had once again surprised him as she had shown him the tiny white plastic stick with the faint blue plus in the small field where the test result was shown. Up until that point, John had never even dared thinking about having children and he had been sure that he would not be a good father. At one point in his life, he had even thought that he didn't want to have children, but in that very moment, Mary’s smile had brightened up the room, the freckles on the bridge of her nose and under her eyes dancing in the light of the candles she had placed on the dinner table that night for the special occasion. They were still living out of boxes after they had just moved into this small house in Lawrence, Kansas. Until that night, there simply had not been enough time to unpack those boxes properly. Hell, their dining table had been a cardboard box and they had been sitting on pillows on the ground in their kitchen. Still, the moment in itself couldn't have been any more perfect.

He had been dumbfounded at first, thoughts full of panic rushing through his brain of how the hell should they be able to afford to feed a child, of how the hell should they be able to get their house ready for another human being in it fast enough? But Mary had smiled at him and it was like the sun had decided to pay them a late visit in their kitchen and its warmth and light had crept into John’s chest. He had picked up his wife in his arms and whirled her around the room in laughter, smothering her in kisses and enjoying the feeling of his dreams growing one more time.

The day his first child was born was a cold winter day. It was the twenty-fourth of January, early in the morning, as his wife had gone into labor and as the night started to creep in on the small hospital in Lawrence, a thick layer of fog lay over the streets of the small town in Kansas. It was too early for his child to be born - That was the only thought occupying his brain as he sat outside of the delivery room, waiting for news of his wife and child. As Mary had gone into labor, she had thought it was a false alarm like the previous two times during the last months, but after her water had broken and John started panicking because it was only the eight-month, Mary had laughed and told him that their son was just as impatient as his father.

Of course, they both didn't know what gender their child would truly have, but Mary had been certain from the start that it would be a little boy. John had secretly hoped for a boy as well although he would never say it and although he would love a daughter just as much. Really, there were more important things to worry about and right now all he could feel was panic anyway.

John Winchester had never been a religious man but as the fourteenth hour of him waiting in this white hallway begun, he found himself praying to God and all angels he knew to deliver his baby safely and keep his wife save as well. He would rather sacrifice his first child than losing his wife. The thought scared him for a second but as that second passed there was no guilt he felt about thinking like that. They could always have another child and another and another but his wife was the most important thing to him in this life and not even a child of his would change that. Not even a child of his would take that place of Mary in his heart. He would always put Mary in front of everything and everyone else and if it came to a burning house situation, he would get out his wife first.

Was this selfish?

Probably. But there was still hope in his mind as he stared at the closed doors of the delivery room. He had thought he would hear Mary scream through the entire hospital but he hardly heard her at all. No, Mary was a fighter, she was strong and she was resilient. She would come out of that room as if nothing had happened at all, a baby in her arms as if she had found it somewhere. There was still hope that his thoughts and feelings might change as soon as he would meet his child. Every father he had asked about that had told him that it happened for them too, after all. They all had seen their baby boys and daughters and suddenly their focus in life and their priorities had shifted dramatically.

Suddenly, nothing but the well-being of their children had mattered anymore, not the promotion at work, not that new car they always dreamed of having, not money or the big house they always wanted. They were all ready and eager to give their kids their everything in life, the whole world if nothing else and John had always admired this way of thinking. He had, in all honesty, hoped that he would feel the very same way when the day would come that he would become a father but now as he sat in this hallway, his hands folded underneath his chin in silent prayer, he didn't feel any different.

As the fifteenth hour of Mary’s labor arrived, he felt a gush of wind ruffling through his hair and he was acutely aware of the fact that there were no windows in this hallway and no possible explanation for that wind in the first place. Maybe it was a sign of God, a voice inside his mind supplied, but he was quick to shake it off.

As the sixteenth hour arrived, it started to snow. Midnight was approaching in big steps by now. They had arrived around seven AM in this hospital and his child was still not here. As impatient as his child seemed to have been before, the more time it took now to arrive in this cruel and cold world. He couldn't really hold it against that kid. It was half-past eleven as he felt the same gush of wind as before and something prompted him to jump to his feet. His whole body was aching after sitting in the same place for sixteen and a half hours. This was worse than lying underneath some dirty rusty car for eight hours straight and yet John was aware that he had no right to complain. It was Mary who was doing the hard work.

He started pacing around on the hallway and some of the nurses that were passing by shot him sympathetic looks and smiles. Almost he was sure that his child would not arrive until the next day and he knew that his constant staring at the clock on the wall did not help it or quickened his child’s arrival.

It was ten minutes before midnight, as the doors to the delivery room opened and an exhausted-looking nurse called out for him. All of the sudden, John Winchester felt small and unable to move. He felt as if nothing in this world could have prepared him for what was coming next - not even the war and all the horrors it had brought to his life and his dreams. As he made the first staggering steps towards those doors he felt like a small child that was approaching their dark closet at night, not knowing if the monster inside was already awake and eager to bite down on a child’s arm as a midnight snack.

He didn't know what to expect as he stepped through those doors and he hardly even felt the gentle touch of the nurse’s hand on his left biceps as she was guiding him inside. It was warm and his eyes rested solely on Mary’s face. Her long golden hair was disheveled and messy and her face glistened with sweat and yet she looked more beautiful than she ever had. It was almost as if a light was shining straight out of her eyes, surrounding her like a halo perhaps. John had always been sure that he had married an angel but never more than in this moment as she smiled at him. The small bundle in her arms he noticed only after a second or two but there it was, wrapped up in a white towel, nestled close against Mary’s chest.

»John« Mary breathed. She looked utterly exhausted and yet she had the strength left to smile at him proudly. »I want you to meet your son, Dean.« He didn't even care that his wife had decided to name their firstborn son after her mother of all people. They had never made the decision what name their first child would get. They had argued about it, but in the end, John had told his wife that she should decide on this matter because Mary always knew what was right.

His baby boy was small, smaller than most newborns he had ever seen in his life, his eyes were still closed as he was stepping closer and his face was pink and scrunched up. For a moment, he didn't even know what to do or say and was genuinely surprised as the nurse was stepping towards them again to take Dean from Mary's arms. He needed a moment to realize that she wanted to give Dean to him and a part of him wanted to run away screaming in terror as she did so. He was sure that he would break him and yet the women inside the room did not bat a lash as he took Dean in his arms gingerly, placing one hand securely under the small head. Suddenly, John felt as if he was holding the most precious and fragile thing in the entire universe. Had Dean looked small before, now he felt even smaller, tiny even. He weighed nothing to John and a part of him thought that this would probably never change. He would be able to carry his baby boy even when he would be an old man.

It felt like hours that he had Dean in his arms already but he was very aware that it was only a few seconds before Dean produced a huge yawn and opened his eyes. They were blue but even John Winchester knew that this would change soon. All babies were born with blue eyes and he couldn't wait to see what color they would adopt later on. Would they be green like his mother’s eyes or brown like his eyes? Secretly, he hoped they would turn out green. »Heya Dean…« He mumbled quietly and Dean Winchester, his first-born son, looked as if he had the most miserable time of his life.

Four years later, his second son, Samuel, was born and unlike his big brother Dean, Sam was all too eager to be born as if he knew something was waiting for him in this life and had John Winchester known what it was that was waiting for him, he would have probably ended it right then and there. The births of his two sons couldn't have been more different. Sam had taken his time in the womb but rushed out of it as if there was a war to fight. He had been a big and heavy baby unlike his fragile big brother, whose eyes had indeed turned out green over the years. And while Dean had not really screamed after being pulled into this miserable world, Sam had come out screaming bloody murder. As different as their births had been the two boys turned out to be too.

John Winchester was a simple man. He had never dreamed of big achievements in his life, never dared to believe to be something but a soldier or a mechanic at best ever since his father had left him behind and never returned for him. He had never been a religious or God fearing man as well but all of that changed in the moment he had run into his baby son’s bedroom to find his wife dead and burning on the ceiling.

****

**-End of Chapter 1-**


	2. Chapter 2

**January 1995 - Winona, Minnesota**

Dean Winchester had never believed in monsters, not even at the age of four which was probably a little odd for a child. After all, every child believed in monsters at some point in their lives, didn't they? The other kids at his kindergarten had all believed in monsters, at least. Dean would have sometimes heard them talk about the monsters under their beds or in their closets that would go bump at night and how all of them had been terribly afraid to go and close their closets on their own as soon as night would fall, while they had been perfectly fine doing so during daytime - which in itself had never made much sense to him. His closet, however, had never behaved out of the ordinary, at least as far as he could tell, and under his bed, there had been nothing that would be worrisome too, only stray toys and socks. He had checked every night but there would have been nothing staring back at him with cold menacing eyes. At one point, Dean had felt a little left out but as he had confronted his father about it one night as his dad had put him to bed, John Winchester had only brushed his huge hand through Dean’s fluffy blonde hair and smiled. »Monsters don’t exist, Dean-o.« He had assured him with a smile before he had tucked him in and kissed him goodnight.

Dean would probably never forget that night because this had been the night that had changed his life forever. Unannounced to him, it was the last time he would be tucked in properly, the last time he would get a good night kiss from his father, the last time he would go to bed as a child. He hadn't  known it then but in just a few hours he would wake up to screaming and smoke filling the entire house and when he would run outside with his baby brother in his arms, he would leave behind his childhood in the flames.

However, for the moment being, Dean Winchester had been perfectly contempt as he had closed his eyes and enjoyed the softness of his bed and the presence he felt lingering about. Maybe that was what the other kids felt and thought of as a monster, he had wondered in that moment. But this thing that he had felt next to his bed almost every night was far from being a monster. His mother had always told him that the angels would watch over him in his sleep and so Dean had always guessed that the presence he felt at night next to his bed had been just that, an angel.

As Dean opened his eyes this time he wondered when this presence that he had felt during those early years next to his bed had left him. Had it burned away with the house? As a child, he had never believed in monsters but now he knew better because in that very night in which his mother had died he had learned that monsters were out there and that they would get him if he would not do something about it. At least that was what his father always said to him. As he felt his brother stir in the bed next to him, his eyes fell to the clock on the bedside table that was crammed in the narrow space between the two beds of the room they were staying in. It was still early and the sun had not yet risen but it would only be a matter of seconds until his father would come out of the bathroom and demand him to follow him outside.

Was he getting tired of those dingy motel rooms? Sure. Was he getting tired of his father's training drills? Oh hell yes. Was there anything he could do about this? Probably not. The only thing he could do was to be a good son because at least this way it would be more bearable for all of them. He had lost his father in the night of the fire, November 2nd, 1983, together with his mother and what should have been his childhood and Dean was acutely aware of that fact. The man who had run out of the burning house to grab him and the baby in his thin arms had not been John Winchester his beloved Daddy who had tucked him in and kissed him goodnight or assured him that there were no monsters he should be afraid of that very night. The man who had run out of that burning house to grab him and the baby in his thin arms had been John Winchester the soldier and soon to be hunter.

Sam, his baby brother, had never understood this change because he had not experienced it. Sammy didn't know their father as he had been before the fire. He didn't know how his dad had carried Dean on his strong shoulders through the house or how he had tried to teach him to play soccer and how he had just laughed it off as Dean had repeatedly failed to kick the ball with his chubby legs at the age of three. Sam only knew their dad as he was now and sometimes Dean wondered if that would make everything easier for him too.

He, however, would always remember those things about his dad and he missed the old John Winchester.

Sadly, the man that the bathroom spit out was not his dad. Corporal John Edward Winchester was already dressed and ready to go like he always was when he would leave the bathroom this early in the morning. It was half-past four and Dean bit back a groan because he knew that moaning and groaning would not help him achieve anything unless his goal was to anger his father and that was something that was not very wise to do anyway.

»I expect you to meet me outside dressed and ready in ten, Dean.« No ‘ _Good morning, Son_ ’, no ‘ _Did you sleep well?_ ’. Of course not. His father had no time or patience for stuff like this. He had a goal in mind and that was to find that creature who killed their mother, his wife, and because of that, he had no time left to waste on something as unnecessary as being a good and compassionate father to his two adolescent sons.

With those words, he made his way towards the door. There was no repetition of his order. The order had been clear and John expected his oldest son to follow that very order just as he had given it. Sometimes Dean envied his little brother and it was moments like this when he did so the most because as he had to slowly crawl out of the queen size bed that he was sharing with his baby brother, Sam got to continue sleeping - and that he did. Sam was almost twelve years old and he slept like dead, his arms tightly wound around his pillow and most of the blanket they shared on his side of the bed. Until one of them would wake the boy up, Sam would not open his eyes on his own volition. Not even a marching band playing in this motel room would work such a miracle.   

Still, he felt a small warm smile creep over his face as he looked down on his baby brother before turning on his heels and walking towards the small bathroom. He had enough time to splash cold water on his face and put on a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt before slipping into his sneakers and grabbing his trusted flashlight from the bedside table. Still, he found himself staring into the mirror over the dirty sink for a moment longer than usual. He was pale in the bright neon light of the cheap lamp overhead and the freckles that were dusting the bridge of his nose and a bit of the thin skin underneath his pale green eyes stood out even more now. Those were traits he got from his late mother and that was only one reason why he did not hate his freckles or his dirty blonde hair. He was wearing it short like his father wanted him too. There was nothing left of the fluffy golden curls of his childhood.

Fitting.

Even the softness of his face had already started to wear off and the need to shave had arisen one year ago already. Needless to say, it had not been his father who taught him how to shave but Uncle Bobby. A part of him wondered if he would be the person who would teach Sammy when the time would arise. As his eyes traveled further down - or at least as far as the mirror would allow him too - he frowned a little. He had lost all of his baby fat a long time ago and of course the stern training routine his father had bestowed upon him since his tenth birthday was showing it's effects. His muscles were defined and undeniably there but they would probably be a little more impressive would he have more on his ribs - for the ladies, of course. He was quite thin, he guessed but that was hardly a surprise either. When he and Sammy were alone there was hardly enough money to feed two growing boys.

The morning air was crisp as he walked outside the motel room door a little while later only to lock it with the key his father had left for him on a small table beside the door. He always hated it when he would be forced to leave Sam behind like this, after all, his father had made it unmistakably clear to him in the past, that it was his obligation to look after his little brother and make sure that nothing bad would ever happen to that little munchkin they were dragging around from state to state through the U.S.

Maybe he was getting paranoid but Dean would never forget that incident seven years ago in Fort Douglas when Sam had been but five years old. He had left his sleeping brother inside the motel room all by himself just because he had been bored and because of that, his brother had been attacked by that beast. The ass-whooping that had followed administered by his father afterward had been well-deserved. But now it was his father who was demanding him to leave Sam behind and he could only hope that the salt line in front of the windows would suffice to keep his brother safe. And if not - would that be on him still?

In his father's eyes, it probably would be his fault no matter what and it was exactly knowing that his father would find a way to blame him no matter what that really scared him. He would never say it to Sam but he was indeed frightened of their father and he hated that fact. He didn't want to be afraid of his dad, he didn't want to have fear instilled in him every time John would look at him the wrong way but that's just how it was and he hated it. After all, he was still his father and Dean loved him and no matter how much John sometimes scared him, Dean knew that his father loved him just as much - He only had a hard time showing it.

At least that was what Dean had chosen to believe and yes, he was aware how naive that really was.

With the arrival of January, snow had hit the small town of Winona in Minnesota quite heavily. It had snowed all through the night and now a thick layer of snow was powdering the streets and would probably prompt numerous kids to start building snowmen later that day while he and his little brother seemed never to have time for stuff like this. He could not even quite remember when he had built a snowman for the last time - or did normal kids stuff in general. Dean was freezing the moment he stepped out of that door but he was wise enough not to show any signs of it. If his father had taught him anything it would be that any sign of possible weakness was a target of attack and that not only for monsters.

Then again, now that he was already fifteen years old, he was aware that the monsters under his bed or inside his closet had nothing on John Winchester when he came home from a bender. As long as it all went according to plan and in accordance with his will, John was simply a very strict father, though. And to this strict parenting routine belonged the daily training routine that Dean had to endure day in and day out to this ungodly hour. In the past, _in the beginning_ , Dean had somewhat enjoyed these training sessions with his father even. It had been just him and his dad together in the nearby forest in whatever god-forsaken area they had been at the time. He loved his baby brother more than anything in the world, but in the past, he had enjoyed spending a little alone time with his dad every once in awhile if just so because Sam and his father were always at each other's throats and for Dean playing the mediator became quite tiring after a while.

»Can you explain to me what possessed your brother yesterday?« John asked as they left the motels perimeter on foot. There was a small forest not too far off the motel so that they would still be close enough in case something would indeed happen. His father had one of their dirty old canvas duffel bags flung over his right shoulder. Dean knew that his left shoulder was, in fact, bruised after an incident last night. Inside the bag, he was carrying was a few of their guns and knives, some for protection, some for training. One could never be too negligent.

His father's question prompted him to scratch his neck in visible discomfort and Dean was sure that his father had picked up on this, judging by the way he furrowed his brows at Dean. Well, what was he supposed to say? Sam had been violently angry as their father had announced that he would leave for one or two weeks to hunt down a nest of vampires not too far away. He had accused their father of not caring for his own sons enough to stay close with a possible vampire threat looming nearby in Minnesota. Sam was almost twelve years by now and he was no longer the little boy who would only yell at their father in anger to later cry on Dean's shoulder because he had to face the injustices of the world. Everything would be so much easier if things would still be as simple as this.

However, Sam was starting to grow tall and Dean was aware that in a few short years, his brother would probably tower over him and no longer need his protection. Dean himself was not exactly all that short, he was still a growing teenager and yet it was already foreseeable how tall Sam would become. But with a growing body ready to hit puberty came an immoderation of bodily strength and energy also. Usually, Sam would discharge his energy when play fighting or wrestling with his big brother, last night, however, he had demanded their father to spar with him instead of Dean. Sam had proven to be quite creative when he needed to get out of a chokehold by a much larger much angrier older man like their dad as he had kicked John’s shoulder as hard as he had been able to. A part of Dean was positive that Sam had done so on purpose to hurt their father.

Hell, Dean had been fairly certain their father would beat Sam bloody for this kick that had managed to bruise his shoulder and thus posed a possible danger to his upcoming hunt. Instead, he had congratulated Sam through gritted teeth for his will to resort to dirty tricks to get his opponent off - unlike his brother. Dean had never been able to beat their father during a sparring session. He was always the one ending up pinned down and bruised all over.

»Uncle Bobby says it's because he is a Taurus.« Dean gave a crooked smile in hopes his father would maybe catch on to the joke, but as always that seemed not to be the case which only added to Dean’s looming discomfort. He better not start scratching his neck again as long as his father would be able to see it.

»And what's that supposed to mean?« John frowned as they were walking towards the forest and soon dove straight into the darkness of these early hours. The sun had not yet risen and inside the forest, it was still night. Dean had put aside his fear of nightly woods a long time ago and a part of him mourned that loss of innocence even. He was fifteen. He was supposed to be afraid of dark forests. Yet, he only switched on his flashlight and walked on beside his father.  

»Well, what do I know?« Dean chuckled. »Maybe he means he has horns?« He lazily formed horns with his index fingers to the sides of his head before producing a low grunt that was supposed to sound like a bull. »And he is stubborn as a mule.«

»This boy is quite angry.« John huffed and Dean bit back a huff of his own. Of course, Sam was angry. He was soon to be a teenager and soon to hit puberty. There was a lot of anger collecting in this little brain of his and Dean was very cautious of this fact, unlike his father, apparently. He knew how he had been when he had hit puberty. Hell, he had been a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any second if someone dared to make a stupid comment in his general direction and this far too often happened during school hours. No wonder his grades were so bad.

»He just…« He began but didn't quite know what to say. Why was it his job to explain what Sammy thought or felt? When did he become the mediator in this family? The answer to that question was burned into his memory, though. November 2nd, 1983. »You know, he goes through a difficult time, Sir.«

»A difficult time? What could be difficult for a brat like him?«

»Well, he's about to turn twelve in four months.« He offered as an explanation, hoping that his father might catch onto the bait Dean was throwing his way, but of course, he didn't. It was as if his father had never hit puberty. No, John Winchester had entered this world already a Vietnam veteran.

»So?«

Dean sighed and drove a hand through his hair. »Listen, I just think he would like spending more time with you. I think that's why he’s always so angry when you leave.«

»You're acting as if I would abandon you boys.« His father had chosen his words and the tone of his voice deliberately to sound as accusatory as humanly possible, almost even hurt and disappointed because his sons might insinuate something as hurtful as that.

»No, no!« He felt the anger simmering in his father already. »Of course, you aren't. Your work is important - Hey, _I_ get that! But Sammy … Sammy wants you to be around more … He wants you to show more interest in him and the stuff he likes … You know … His year has a science fair coming in a few days and he hoped you would come…«

»Dean.« He felt himself tense up at the tone of his father’s voice. The deep rumbling sound that was leaving John's mouth now left no doubt about his anger and the seriousness of the current situation. He hated how his back was suddenly straight as a strung bow. He was a soldier in his father's eyes and not a young boy and nothing made this more clear than the way he said his name or how he looked at him out of his dark-shadowed eyes. »You and I both know that we don't have time for something like this. You and I both know that we will leave the area as soon as I hunted down those blood-sucking assholes. I really don't see a point in getting all invested in something as nonsensical as a science fair even though you boys will leave that school behind in not even a month from now. But I understand that Sam is still a child and that he does not understand. It's your job to make that clear to him while I am gone. Is that understood?«

»Yes, Sir.« Dean immediately replied as they stopped at a small clearing surrounded by thick brushwork and fir trees. His father held his dark gaze on him for a few, unbearably long, seconds longer, before he nodded and pulled his stopwatch from the pocket of his pants. The drill was clear and Dean started running as soon as his father gave him the signal to. He would do lapses through the forest until his father would call for him to come back. It could be five minutes or ten, but it could just as well be half an hour depending on his father's mood and Dean could only hope that their little conversation just now had not turned his father's mood too sour. He also hoped Sammy would keep his stupid mouth shut when they would come back at sunrise. Their father would leave while they were at school anyway and Dean only wanted to not have his father leave them after another stupid argument with his brother.

Still, he hated himself for being so obedient, for having said yes so freely. He had wanted to say no and that he understood how Sam felt. Sam was a smart little boy. He was intelligent - maybe more so than Dean himself. Sam was bound to do something great with his life and that mind of his and he had always been interested in getting good grades and learning new stuff. Sam had always thrived in school. He had learned how to read in no time and almost faster than he had been able to walk without stumbling every other step. Dean had been proud of his brother’s achievements in school and life, no doubt, but sometimes it pained him too.

As much as Sammy thrived in school, as much Dean failed. It had always been as if they were two sides of the same medal. Sammy was the sun, bright and warm and full of love for the world around him and Dean was the moon, bitter and always in the shadow of his little brother’s great mind and talent. Sam never had any real problems finding friends either. He was an oddball everywhere he went, sure, but people were drawn to him like moths to the light. Dean, however … Well, he had his charms for sure and he was not too bad looking. He knew the girls liked him and he would use that to his advantage but that was about it. It was a facade and everyone was bound to look right through that sooner or later. He had no friends, really. His only friend was Sammy and he doubted that it would be any different would they not lead this kind of life. Sammy might be the oddball when he joined a new school, but Dean … Well, he was just not liked by most other students. Simple as that. He was an asshole. He was cocky and smug and he was picking fights unnecessary. Of course, no one liked him. Of course, no one wanted to be his friend. He could not blame anyone for not liking him. Was that weird?

Well, it wouldn't really surprise him if it was. He was a weird guy, maybe even weirder than his little nerdy brother.

Dean did not even stop running through the thick forest and the snow as his ribs started to hurt and his breath came out wheezing and in little white clouds that were forming in front of his face. Of course, he could have stopped and just waited until his father would call for him, but knowing his father, it was also pretty clear to Dean that his father would know would he disrespect his orders. He had lost count of how many lapses he had already done or how much time might have already passed. Every time his mind started to wander he would lose track of time or his surroundings even. The latter was exactly what caused his downfall in the next moment as he was suddenly tackled from his unguarded right side. He had not noticed the dark shadow that was creeping up on him between the trees on his right-hand side before it had suddenly jumped out on him.

Dean crashed to the forest ground and into dried leaves, crumbs of dirt, twigs, and snow. His flashlight flew out of his hand and onto the ground. The second his back hit the ground, Dean started thrashing about, kicking and hitting at the force that was keeping him down although he was unable to even name what it was keeping him down. It was very real and that was all that mattered to him in that very moment. This was no bad dream, this was reality and that frightened him to the core.

It was his first instinct to fight. It was his first instinct to kick and trash and try to get whatever it was on top of him off and flee or at least don't go down without a fight. Of course, he was very aware that fighting like this against some monster would not faze ninety percent of those monsters. Only as his eyes began taking in the thing he was fighting against in the darkness of the forest, he realized that he was facing his own father and for about a millisecond, he was sure that his father was possessed by something as he stared at Dean with wild eyes, fighting back against his oldest son with as much vigor as if he was trying to kill one of those monsters they were hunting. This was serious and there was no doubt about it. Dean couldn't help but be horrified by the unnatural shadows that the beam of his flashlight was painting on his father’s face or by the blackness of his eyes.

His father might not be possessed but at the very least this was a test, which did not make it any less serious in Dean’s eyes. Fighting with his father, no matter, if it was training or anything else was never not serious and Dean gave it his all as he memorized the things he had learned while watching wrestling with his dad whenever the old man seemed to find the time to do so. This was practically the only thing he and his father were able to bond over and now he was more than ready to use what he had learned.

The thing was, his father was a man of six feet and two inches and one hundred and three pounds and Dean was not even half of that. It didn't need a genius to figure out that his father easily outmatched him and yet, Dean tried to kick him off balance as his father pushed his forearm so hard against Dean’s throat that he was sure it would leave him bruised. Wouldn't be the first time.

»Come on!« His father growled so close to Dean's own face that he could practically smell his breath on his face. It was a mixture of morning breath despite having brushed his teeth earlier and the remnants of beer from last night's bender. Father or not - it was certainly not the most pleasant smell in the world. Breathing became only more difficult now and Dean had a harder and harder time pulling and kicking at his father. In fact, his thrashing did not seem to have any effect on his father at all. It was as if he was holding a kitten down, for all he knew.

»Dad!« Dean choked. »Dad, I can't breathe!«

Of course, his father only pressed harder down on his throat at his complaint. Dean felt a wave of panic rush through his system at this and his legs kicked wilder as he started to tear at his father's heavy leather jacket. A panicked voice in his head was suddenly sure that his father would kill him right here on the spot but after one final hard push against his throat, John got up from his son and stumbled back a few steps as Dean rolled onto his side, coughing and wheezing as cold air was filling his lungs once more, the bright beam of his flashlight shining directly and almost blindingly in his eyes now. Resting on his side, Dean was gasping for air like a drowning man and the heart in his suddenly very constricted chest was beating so hard and viciously fast that he was almost sure it would explode at any second. Even more so than as his father had attacked him, Dean felt like he was dying. It had only been seconds, he knew that, but it felt like his father had held him down in his confusion and panic for hours. He didn't want to call it betrayal but this was how it felt like being tackled by his own father in the darkness of the woods - and this feeling damn stung.  

»If I was a monster you would be dead, Dean.« Disappointment was dripping heavily from his father's words as he spoke and turned on his own flashlight again that he lazily dragged out of his belt loop now. Needless to say, this hurt more than the attack in itself. Dean had a hard time regaining to his senses and as he did he tried to push himself up on his arms. He hadn't expected that his father would make him fall over again with a well-aimed shove to his side with his foot. »How do you expect to take care of Sam if you can't even defend yourself?« It was an accusation, not a question.

»You surprised me!« Dean bit out and he knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. At least he was not stupid enough to try to get up again.

»Of course, I did! What do you think those creatures will do to you and Sam? Do you think they politely knock at the door?« Dean didn't even dare to look at his father as John stood above him now and he felt his father's eyes drill holes into his skin. He couldn't help but feel humiliated by this act but he knew better than to act like that too. He could only lie here on his back in the snow and endure the humiliation his father would bestow on him. »Do you?«

»No, Sir.« He bit out hating the sound of his very own, shaking voice as he did so. No one knew better how to get through his skin than his father and the worst thing was that John knew this too.

»What? Sorry, but I can't hear you if you cry, Deanna.«

»No, Sir!« Dean replied again, louder this time and with fury in his eyes as he finally raised them to meet his father’s ow almost black eyes. If there was one thing his father hated even more than someone talking back to him it was when the person he was talking to would not look him in the eyes.

»Boy, really.« His father sounded beyond frustrated as he stepped away further from Dean now. »If you wouldn't have your good looks your existence would be pointless…« His words stung and he knew it and yet Dean remained on the cold hard ground even as his father turned his back to him. »You have to know your surroundings at all times, Dean. How often do I have to tell you that? You have to notice changes in your surroundings immediately if you want to survive. And now go get your sorry ass moving already, we have work to do.«

There was hardly enough time to take a shower later before he and Sam would be dropped off to school by their dad. It would either be taking a shower or having breakfast for Dean this morning and he decided that he did not want to smell when he would arrive at the school. Usually, they would walk or take the school bus, but since their father would leave them for a while now and since he still seemed to think himself to be a considerate father, John had decided to drop them off on this particular day. Maybe his dad only did so to taunt him further as he gave the passenger’s seat to Sam and banned Dean to the back. Sam had been confused to say the least as he had crawled into the backseat and did his best not to pout even as his little brother threw his backpack at him. Yeah, well, the live of Dean Winchester - having a backpack thrown at his face was only one of its perks, he assumed.

At least Sam was not silly enough to ask their father what this was all about. Sam was probably still pissed after their fight last night. Sam and their father had a lot more in common than they were aware of and they were both incredibly stubborn and resentful - at least with each other. Whenever Sam and Dean would have a fight, which did not happen very often, Sam would always be quick to forgive him and forget the whole thing, mostly without even saying something. Whenever they fought they would usually just not speak to one another for a few hours but as soon as night would fall and Dean would fall into their bed, Sam would crawl under the covers right next to him and stare at him with his ridiculously large puppy eyes until Dean would just wrap his arm around him and close his eyes to go to sleep.

The best thing of having Sam as his brother was that they didn't need big words to understand each other.

As Sam threw a look over the seat bench, Dean only needed a short glance at his baby brother to convince Sam to not ask stupid questions and that they would talk later. Their father was blind to the nonverbal conversation of the two boys for he had never noticed it nor would he understand it. So, as Sam turned around again to face the street, Dean found himself staring out of the window before his eyes briefly fell upon the toy soldier that Sam had jammed into the ashtray somewhere along the lines. Rides in the back seat used to be fun, he remembered.

When he had been a child himself, he and Sam used to play on the backseat with their toys until their father would have enough of the noise and demand Dean to climb over and into the front. And he remembered how he and Sam had snuggled under a few blankets on the back seat at night with the lights of the highway they were on rushing past them, the music coming from the radio only a faint lullaby in his ears. He remembered those things very fondly and sometimes he even wished he could go back to those times. Back then, he had not known how hard it could be. However, as long as Sam was able to stay a child as long as possible, he gladly took the worst life would throw his way, he guessed.

As their father dropped them off around the corner of the school, he did so without much to say. He made Dean repeat the rules as usual and reminded him once more that the most important thing was to watch out for his little brother as if Dean needed to be reminded of that before he drove off in the black Impala that Dean adored so much. He knew that his father did not wish to part from the car but a part of him still hoped that one day this car would be his. But of course, this was probably a wish that would never see fulfillment and so, Dean flung his right arm around his brother’s shoulders and led him towards the school. Sam was only eleven but he started to hate it when Dean would do this and that was exactly why Dean enjoyed it so much.

»Would you stop that? We’re almost there!«

»Embarrassing you in front of everyone is my holy duty as your big brother.« Dean grinned sheepishly as he ruffled through Sam’s thick brown hair. It was getting long again and started to curl at the ends. Sometimes Dean envied his brother for being allowed to wear his hair like this while he had to cut his own short all the time. His father wanted him not only to act but look like a soldier too. »You can only hope that my coolness rubs off on you, Midget.«

»Stop calling me that!« Sam frowned in annoyance as he looked up at his big brother with dark gloomy eyes.

»Would you prefer if I’d call you _Pumpkin_ instead? You know we could arrange that.« Being annoying to his brother was probably the only real triumph he got in life and so he would gladly act upon this privilege.

Instead of giving him more futter to torture him, Sam instead just left it at this, which was probably the wisest decision he had ever made in his young life. »So, what was this all about right now? Why did Dad ban you to the backseat? You never sit in the backseat. And what's with the scratches on your face?«

»I fell over a brunch in the woods and scraped my face on a tree bark.« It was the laziest excuse he could possibly think of and as of right now he was just glad that the bruise on his throat that was sure to come had not yet formed. Needless to say, it was quite obvious by the look on Sam's face that he did not buy this bad of a lie that his brother tried to feed him. Well, the boy was certainly growing into a very questioning adult already and Dean was as proud as he was affronted. How dare his brother not lap up every little lie he told him! As if Dean would ever drown his baby brother in unnecessary, cruel lies if the situation would not absolutely call for it!

»Just forget about it, Pumpkin.« Dean smirked as the entrance of the school building slowly came into sight. He dragged out Sam’s torture for a little while longer but as they were getting so close to the school that other children would be able to see them, Dean took his arm from Sam’s shoulders. Despite what he would say, he did not wish for his brother to be mocked in any way whatsoever. Then again, Sam was pretty capable of handling himself. He had taught him, after all. »I just had a minor accident during my workout this morning. No big deal, Sam.«

»You still didn't tell me why you were banned to the backseat.«

»Because Dad was pissed that I had an accident. You know how he is.« At least that seemed to convince his baby brother as Sam finally shut up. After they entered the buzzing school it did not take Sam long to vanish in the crowd to find his locker and after that his classroom. They were still not used to this school, after all, they were here the second week only but then again most schools looked the same and it was not that hard to navigate through it. One upside to being raised the way they were was that their orientation skills were exceptional.

Unlike his brother, Dean was in no hurry to get to his class. He would sleep through it anyway. Still, as it was time to get into class he did. He did not really want to get into trouble with his teacher just for being a little late. He couldn't afford his father hearing about any misdemeanors of his during his absence. No matter that his father did not deem school very important to their development, they were going to become hunters anyway and for that, they didn't really need a good education, he did not wish to draw negative attention to their family even if it would be something minor as a misdemeanor in school. After all, they were not leading a very traditional life and the threat of CPS interfering if something happened that would raise suspicion, always loomed over their heads. One overly worried and overprotective teacher would be enough to make their whole house of cards come crumbling down on them. And no matter how big of an ass his father could be from time to time, being taken away from his father, their family being ripped apart, was his worst nightmare. Maybe he could go without having his father around but not having Sam in his life would kill him for sure.

The day was dripping by as slow as thick syrup and so, as the school day was finally over, Dean was relieved to finally be able to leave the school again. Sitting still for such a long period of time and listening to some teacher rambling on about some boring facts or tormenting them with math was like torture for Dean. He found Sam already outside waiting for him. A part of him felt sorry that Sam would not really be able to join any club in the schools they were attending because he knew that his brother felt the desire of getting into the science or chess club but didn't dare to simply because they would leave almost immediately anyway. Dean, on the other hand, had never felt the need to do something after school. He had more than enough to do as it was anyway. His father expected him to have studied when he would come home. He expected Dean to be able to tell him everything about some monster or some latin incantation. Then there always was the housework. Even though they were living in dirty motel rooms most of the time anyway, Dean liked it clean and tidy and if he wouldn't cook for Sammy, no one would.

Sometimes he felt more like Sam’s mother than anything else. He was the one taking care of everything, after all.

»Heya Sammy.« Dean greeted his brother and bumped his shoulder into Sam’s as he met him on the stairs. A group of girls that was passing by started giggling at the display of the brothers and Dean couldn't help but notice the smile and glance that one of the girls flashed him before her cheeks turned pink and she hurried after her girlfriends. Well, it was true what his father told him this morning: At least he had his good looks. He would be nothing without his handsome face.

Sam followed him off the perimeter without saying much, just worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as they stepped through the gates of the school and stepped onto the walkway alongside the road where their classmates were being picked up or hurrying towards the school bus. Dean hated nothing more than getting on the school bus and he felt no desire telling the bus driver to drop them off at the motel anyway, so walking it was. It would probably not kill them, despite the snow that was already threatening to start falling again.

»What's wrong?« Dean sighed after he couldn't take Sam's face anymore. »Spit it out already.«

»I was just wondering…« Sam started quietly and gripped the strap of his backpack a little tighter. »Did Dad … forget that your birthday is coming up in a few days?« The question caught him off guard and there was no denying that fact. Sam could probably see it anyway, it was as obvious as if he would have stumbled over air.

»What? Of course not!« He laughed it off but Sam's face remained serious.

»Then why did he leave to hunt down vampires instead of celebrating your birthday?«

»Because it doesn't matter, Sammy. At least not to me. I don't really care about my birthday anyway - Hell, I would have probably forgotten all about it had you not reminded me of it! It's just a birthday, Sam - Just a random, completely normal day. No big deal.« Like always, Dean was quick to brush his brother’s concerns off like this even though the truth might look different than he was willing to let on.

»Dean, you're turning sixteen!«

»Well, duh! So what? One year closer to being allowed to drink, I guess!« He laughed and clasped Sam’s back affectionately to hide the shiver running through his entire body as they walked through the streets of the silent neighborhood around the school. Winona was certainly not the biggest city but it was indeed quite busy most of the times, now however only rarely a car was passing by them as they walked along the road and past houses and shops. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was already starting to sink. despite being born in winter, Dean was not a fan. He liked it warm that was why the heater in their motel rooms was always running at max whenever their dad was not with them. That was also why Dean was always wearing multiple layers of clothing. That and the fact that he tried to look a little more buff like this because despite the muscles he had built already, he was still fairly skinny and his ribs protruding underneath all those layers of clothing. His father was certainly not the best at calculating how much money he would need to leave his growing boys to have them fed and clothed over the span of multiple weeks at times.

»Come on, Dean.« Sam frowned.

»What?« Dean shrugged defensively before he pulled at Sam’s hat to pull it down over his ears and almost rob him of his eyesight. »Listen, Sammy, I really don't care that much. But I expect pie, nonetheless.«

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled his thick woolen hat up again. As most of his clothes, the red hat had been handed down to him from his older brother. Dean wished his little brother would once have clothes of his own that he himself had picked up at the store and liked but as long as they were living on the road, he was aware that this would not happen. That was also the reason why he made sure to pick out clothes of which he knew Sammy would later like to wear too. He took great care of his stuff and made sure that there were no holes in it so that Sam would not look like he was wearing hand-me-downs all the time.

»So« Sam suddenly chirped and the sound told Dean to relax because the baby was changing the topic. »Did you hear the story about that ghost in the old abandoned barn?«

»What story?« Dean scoffed. Yes, of course, he knew that there were ghosts, real ghosts out there, but most of those stories that were circulating in schools were stupid nonetheless.

»One of my classmates told me about it. Apparently, the old barn at the farm just outside the town is haunted by the spirit of its former owner. He hung himself in there after murdering his entire family with a chainsaw and now he haunts the place and kills everyone who comes inside.«

»Sure thing.« Dean laughed. »Well, maybe we should go and hunt that thing down then, don't you think?«

Sam looked almost horrified at this thought. »Are you crazy?« He squeaked.

»Jury’s not yet decided.« Of course, he would not go hunting with his eleven-year-old baby brother while their dad was away! He was not _that_ insane! Sam had never really faced any monster before, with exception of that nasty shtriga bitch years ago but Dean was fairly certain that Sam did not remember any of that. He had been on the hunt with his dad already quite a few times and he knew what to expect and what to do. But teasing Sammy with something as stupid as an urban legend ghost was always good fun.

»Dean, no! We don't go hunting that thing down! It's probably not even a real thing anyway, right?« His brother was smart, Dean had to give that to him, still he snickered.

»You're just scared.« He teased and poked his side gingerly as Sam’s cheeks turned pink.

»Am not!« He frowned back at Dean.

»No? Well, maybe we should go tonight then - just to make sure that there really isn't something tormenting this town. After all, saving people and hunting things is somewhat of the family business, right?«

»Dean…«

»I mean, what if it's a real ghost that's killing people, Sam? We could not just let it be, right?«

Sam stared at him with pleading eyes but since he did not want to admit that he was indeed scared, he tilted up his chin and pushed it forward stubbornly. »Okay.« He said with grim seriousness as if he was already facing certain death. »You’re right. We could not just let a ghost kill innocent people.«

»Alright then.« Dean grinned as the houses around them started to thin out a bit the closer they came to the motel. »I’m glad to hear that, little brother. You’ll see, you're going to be a proper ghosthunter in no time.«

****

**-End of Chapter 2-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy Hell, yes, this story has an actual plot, who would have thought? xD

The night hung low above Winona in Minnesota as Dean dropped the ugly yellow curtain that was hanging in front of the dirty window of the shitty motel room that he was sharing with his brother and his father - whenever the old man decided to remember that he indeed had a family, two sons that were waiting for him at this place they had to call their temporary home for as long as it would take their father to get back to them. If he would get back to them, that was. Dean was not a neat freak per se, but he liked things at least clean enough so that he would not need to worry about the questionable stains on the thin fabric of the curtains or the mustard colored carpet. Hell, the entire motel room looked like it was stuck in the sixties or seventies. It was a mishmash of colors, orange, yellow and green all mixed together in an unpleasant whirlwind of nostalgia. He had seen quite a lot growing up in places like this and was far from being innocent in most regards. He could tell blood stains from the stains left behind by a copulating couple that was probably cheating on their spouses in dirty motel rooms like this.

Ignorance was bliss, as far as Dean was concerned.

However, in addition to suspicious stains on the furniture, carpet or curtains, there was another thing to worry about that Dean Winchester was always carrying around with him, an additional piece of baggage, so to say. Sammy tended just to get angry with their father whenever John decided that he needed to leave them again for an indefinite amount of time to hunt down some monster that had done nothing to them in the hopes that this very monster would bring him closer to finding his wife’s killer. Sammy would rage and rave about it after their dad would have broken the news to them without even accepting any kind of objections from his kids as if their opinion wouldn't matter. He never seemed to consider that they wouldn't like him to be gone for a while and a part of Dean sometimes wondered if his father just did not care that they cared.

But while Sammy would be furious with their father, Dean would help him pack his stuff, check his guns and knives to make sure that they were in proper working condition, and reassure him that he would have everything under control during his father’s absence. On the outside, he was the tough big brother who always knew exactly what to do, the obedient and loyal son who would never question his father's orders. On the inside, however, he was still that little four-year-old boy that was scared shitless whenever his father would walk out that door. It was not so much the being alone with Sam part that frightened him so much that he hardly slept during weeks like these. It was the possibility that his father might not return.

His father - _they_ \- were leading a dangerous life. Hunting monsters was not a Sunday afternoon walk in the park and Dean, unlike Sam, was very aware of the possibility that their father might get seriously injured or even die on one of his trips. They had an arrangement, he and his father. John would get in contact with them every two days just to assure Dean that he was still alive. This was their failsafe. Every two days, his father would call at exactly seven PM. Then again it hardly was a failsafe, wasn't it? Because if there wouldn't be a call after two days if he would have died out there, there really was nothing that Dean could do about it. He would just know, he guessed. And every time his father would be a little late with his calls, Dean would freak out on the inside. He would start thinking of all the horrifying implications this missing call could have. His father might lie injured in the woods somewhere and die from his injuries without anyone being able to help. Or some monster might have killed him. Sometimes even the thought occurred to him, that their father might have finally abandoned them for real. And when the call would finally come, he would feel relieved and stupid all at once.

Despite how much of a jerk his father often was to him, he was still his dad and Dean still loved him. He still wanted to make him proud. Maybe that was the problem in all of this. He still cared too much what his father thought about him and if he was a good son in John’s eyes even though he knew that he was in his own eyes at least. There really was not much he could do besides what he was already doing for his father and though a quiet voice in his head told him that this should be enough for John to realize that he was indeed a good son and his greatest supporter, Dean still wanted more. But that was his problem, he figured. Not his dad’s, not Sammy’s, only his and he was the one person who needed to deal with those insecurities. But that was human nature, wasn’t it? Every person always wanted more than they would get and they would get more and more frustrated because of it. And even if they would get what they desired, the promotion at work, the girl they liked, the new pair of shoes or the new car, the satisfaction would wear off sooner or later and leave them empty and wanting more again. Overindulgence was the death of humankind - at least according to one of his teachers.

Yet, as he was standing at this dirty window now, watching the snow outside fall gingerly to the ground to cover the entire town of Winona under a thick white blanket, and waited for a call that might not even come, he was already going through his emergency plan for the third time since the appointed time had gone by.

If his father would not have called by midnight, he would have to call Bobby and tell him about the situation. If Bobby hadn't heard of their dad either, they, he and Sammy, would pack up their stuff, get out of this motel, and either take the next bus to Sioux Fall or wait for Bobby to pick them up in his old and funny smelling truck. This was the plan he and his dad had agreed upon a while ago after John had started to leave his boys for longer than just a few days at once and started to travel farther without them and so this was the plan Dean would follow.

»Dean« Sam's voice sounded beyond annoyed at this point as Dean was tapping the phone in his right hand against his chin repeatedly, lost in thought for the moment. He had not even realized that he was doing it, but Sam's voice made it crystal clear that he did and that it did, in fact, annoy the living crap out of his eleven-year-old baby brother.

»What.« He answered as he turned away from the window and towards Sam who sat on the small couch that was part of the interior of this palace they were living in right now. The thick kind of velvety fabric that was coating the couch looked dirty and worn off by the years. The TV was running and by the looks of it, the news was already almost over. Sam was a weird kid indeed, for he insisted on watching the news every evening almost religiously - especially when their father wasn't around. A part of Dean wondered if Sam wanted to check if there were any reports of dead bodies that had turned up under suspicious circumstances or if he was maybe afraid to see their father’s face on the news as an unidentified victim of a crime.

The weatherman was just pointing excitedly at the map on the side, as Dean coked one eyebrow at his brother and tried to play his nervousness down as best as he could. Sammy could never know how anxious his big brother really was. The day Sam would start to see right through that, would be a dark day in Dean's life. He did not want to be unmasked as the liar he was by his brother, but he knew, of course, that it was only a matter of time now that Sammy was slowly growing into an adult. At some point, he would confront Dean about all the lies he was telling constantly, starting by the ‘I’m fine’, whenever Sam would ask him if he was alright. He didn't want to be seen as a liar by his brother but that was just who he was.

»You're doing it again.« Sam remarked as he quietly pointed towards the phone in Dean’s hand.

»What?«

»These nervous ticks!«

»I don't have nervous ticks, Samantha.«

»You tap the phone against your chin.« Sometimes his brother was a little too observant for Dean’s taste. He did not like it that his brother started to pick up on those little quirks of his and that he could so easily tell when he was getting anxious already. He was the big brother, the older brother and he was supposed to be calm and collected all the time, wasn't he? Sam was not supposed to see him for who he really was. No yet. Then again, in Dean’s eyes, Sammy would always continue to be a toddler.

»That's hardly a nervous tick.«

»Yes, it is.« Sam sighed. »The phone call won't come any faster just because you stand around and wait for it, you know? Why are you waiting for it anyway? It's not like dad would care, is it? He would be more punctual if he would care. We could be out there and have fun, instead, we sit here and wait for him - again.« He had a point and Dean knew it but he had decided not to acknowledge that as a fact.

»You want to go out there and have fun?« Dean replied with a small laugh escaping his lips. »Like _what_ , you party animal? Do you want to have drinks at the bar around the corner? I’ve heard the barmaid is a damn hot chick.« Just the way Sam was complaining to him practically forced him to mock his little brother and who would he be would he not do just that? He was an awesome big brother, yes, but that just meant that he would not let anyone torture his baby brother and not that he wouldn't torture his baby brother!

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean strolled over to him, the phone still in his hand, tapping against his thigh now instead as if that would make it any less obvious to the ever-observant Sammy. »I meant more like going to the movies or something like that.« He replied with a little scowl on his face that would be adorable would Sam still be the chubby little guy he used to be.  

»Or going to that barn to find out more about that ghost?« Suddenly, Sam wasn't so cool anymore as his lips shrunk into a very thin, very straight line. He looked as if he had tried to put a ruler into his mouth square. For a moment, Sam even moved his attention back to the TV as if that way he would escape his big brother and his stupid questions.  »I mean you wanted to go after that ghost after all, didn't you?«

»Of course!« He gave his best to sound adamant and compelling but Dean looked right through that facade of his with no problem whatsoever. After all, he had raised this boy up to this point and he knew when Sam was trying to sell him a lie.

»So … Why you chickened out on me two times already then?« Dean had never read a book on how to be a perfect brother, but he was pretty sure it involved a lot of teasing of younger siblings.

»I just didn't want to go during school nights, that's all.« The excuse was weak and they both knew that but at least Sam had the decency to blush at least ever so slightly.

»So … Tonight then?« Dean pressed on with a grin and ruffled through Sam’s hair just to annoy his baby brother further who almost decided to throw a pillow at him. Dean could see it in the way his ears suddenly twitched. But before Sam had the chance to throw anything at him, the phone rang and without hesitation, Dean immediately picked it up, much to his brother’s annoyance as Sam pulled a grimace at the way Dean answered the phone right away. »Dad?« Dean’s voice sounded way too weak and hopeful, even in his own ears and he was aware that his father would not like that sound at all.

»Dean.« His father replied in his usual gruff voice before he cleared his throat. »Is everything alright over there?« He would never ask him how _he_ was or how Sammy was. It was always the same question and he did not expect to hear any answer but a yes. They could both be out cold with a dangerously high fever and still, Dean would say that everything was just fine because that was what his dad wanted to hear and as long as he would get to hear what he wanted, everything would turn out okay.

»Yes, Sir.« As he threw a glance at Sam out of instinct, he saw how Sam frowned at his choice of words and huffed a breath of air as if to mock him, but Dean ignored him as he strolled back to his spot near the window where he had waited for that damned call before. »How's the hunt going?«

»Not too well, actually.« The sigh that his father let out on the other end of the line made Dean’s back feel a little tenser than before as was always the case when he was talking to his father. Dean knew in what a bad mood his father usually was when a hunt was not going as planned but he noticed how relaxed he sounded despite that. Odd. » I’ve got a lead on those bastards here in Windom but it appears as if they moved already. Their nest was discarded as if they left in a hurry. Maybe they got a tip that there was a hunter on their trail. They aren't here anymore at least. So, I will probably need a couple of days longer than expected. Maybe even one or two weeks longer.«

Dean's first impulse was to object. They didn't have enough money for such a long time. How would he feed Sam when the money was exhausted by the end of next week? His father had planned for two weeks and left them the money accordingly and even two weeks would be tight with a budget as small as this. Well, he could always try to steal food, he guessed. For the first time in a long while, however, their dad actually seemed to have thought about this matter and that, in turn, made Dean a little suspicious. It was conversations like this when he was worried that their father would indeed leave them behind for good.

»Listen, Dean. If it takes me longer than two weeks, maybe you boys have to go to Bobby. I’m sure he has no problem with taking you guys in for a while.« Dean always loved being at Bobby's place, yet, he interrupted his father immediately despite his impulse to agree or rather pack up his stuff and leave this goddamn town for good to just go straight to Bobby instead.

»Don't worry, Dad. We've got this. Focus just on your hunt, I’ll handle everything over here.«

»I know that you will, Dean.« His father replied and Dean imagined he had heard a bit of warmth creeping into this gruff voice that he was so used to hearing yell at him instead. »I know that I can depend on you for taking good care of Sammy.« His heart was skipping a beat and he knew how stupid that was. Still, he could not stop the small grin from pulling on the corners of his mouth. He would show his dad that he would manage without him even if it would take longer. Sammy would be able to go to that stupid science fair of his class and Dean would visit and support his brother like the cheerleader he was on the inside. If it meant he wouldn't eat for two more weeks, so be it. The truth was, Dean loved hearing the praise of his dad. He didn't care for being praised generally because most people threw praises around like a good morning and so he always felt like it wouldn't mean anything. This was different with his dad, though. His dad always meant it when he would praise Dean for something and it was so rare that it was quite addictive when he would get it.

»Alright.« Dean replied and gave his best not to sound too happy. »Oh, and listen, Dad. Sammy might have found a case for us too.«

»A case?« Now his father's interest seemed sparked again and Dean felt his heart gave a little jump at this. Maybe there was another thing he could impress his dad with.

»Yeah, he told me about an urban legend here in Winona. A ghost that haunts a barn just outside town.« This time Sam did throw a pillow at him as Dean was making scary ghost noises to mock him a little further. »We thought to check it out tonight, what do you think?«

»Dean.« And there it was again, the usually disappointed-dad voice that his father had brought to perfection over all those years. »This is nothing to make fun of and you know that better than anyone else. I expect you to take these things a little more seriously or otherwise you won't live very long.«

»Dad-«

»And I don't think you should go to that place - especially not with Sam. It's too dangerous. You know how those urban legends go, Dean. I thought you would be more intelligent than to drag your brother into this as well. You are not a hunter, Dean and you could put the both of you in serious danger. Really, I would have thought I taught you better than this.« That was how quickly an otherwise pleasant conversation with his dad could turn sour in an instant.

»We haven't even done anything yet, Dad!«

»No and it's better this way too, Dean! I try to be as quickly as possible with my hunt before you can come up with another of these genius ideas of yours. I need to get going now.« There was a small pause on the other end of the line and Dean almost expected an apology but knowing his dad he would probably never get it. »Take care of Sam. See you in a bit.«

Of course. His dad hung up on him before Dean could even spit out a reply at this. He held onto the phone for a moment longer, the plastic pressed to his right ear and listening intently to the dial tone after his father had hung up as if he expected that there would be something else, something more perhaps. His frustration was unbearable. Had he been high from the small bit of praise he had received first, now he felt as if his father had punched him in the guts. There was really nothing new about this and yet it hurt like hell and he hated it that it did. He wished he would be a little stronger and not falter like this every time his daddy would be a little mean to him.

Then again, his dad was always mean to him. That was his way of making Dean stronger, of preparing him for the real world and the dangers of hunting.

»So, what did Dad say?« Sam chirped from the dirty rotten old green couch and Dean noticed now that he was kneeling on the cushions, his body facing Dean and his hands resting on the backrest as Dean slowly lowered the phone and carelessly threw it onto his own bed that was closest to the window. Well, his own bed for the time being until their dad would come back to claim it.

Dean avoided looking at Sam’s face - or to be more precise his eyes - as he cleared his throat a little and straightened his back. »Nothing.« He replied as nonchalant as possible. »He’ll probably be gone a little longer than he expected. If he needs longer than two weeks, he said we should go to Bobby.« As he looked at Sam now, he knew exactly what he was in for. He didn't get disappointed as Sam’s resentment towards their father only took a flash of a second to manifest.

»What about school?« He exclaimed immediately, his voice slightly higher in pitch than it would usually be before he exploded into his little rant. »We have a science fair coming, didn't you tell Dad? You promised me we could stay long enough this time! You promised me I could partake in that this time! You promised me I could be like any other kid in school for once!«

It wasn't as if Sam’s words wouldn't sting deep down. Of course, they did. He loved his brothers more than anything in the world and wanted only the best for his life. He wanted that Sam would be able to experience being a normal kid and later a normal teenager. He didn't want Sam to be dragged through all of this every time his father got a new lead to the monster that killed their mother. He wanted Sam to be able to stay in the same school for longer than a month, for god’s sake! And yes, he had promised him all those things although he had known that it was not his place to do this. And now he felt guilty that Sam might not get to experience all of this _again_.

»Of course I told him. I told him before he left, actually. He wanted to know why you were so royally pissed at him the night before. He said he might be back in time.« Dean lied and yet he did so without even batting a lash. »So, if you would untangle your panties and grab your stuff, we could go and hunt a ghost now. Or are you too afraid?«

»I’m not afraid!« Angry or not, Sam was still a child and taunting him still worked miracles.

»Are you sure? Because if you are, I would understand that, Sammy. Facing your first real monster is always an experience, you know? Nothing for the faint of heart, let me tell you. If you are too scared there is no shame in admitting this and we could just stay here and watch TV instead.«

Sam jumped off the couch and switched off the TV in no time before he stomped through the motel room to grab his thick jacket, scarf, and hat. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the display of his pouting brother who was oh so very determined now to proof his douchey big brother wrong. He knew exactly how he could get to Sam. Hopefully that would never change but the guilt he felt still weighed heavily on Dean’s shoulders. He himself had no interest in school or anything that was connected to school, so he didn't care for something as stupid as a science fair, but Sam did and he wanted to support his brother in his academic endeavors. After all, their father was not going to do so. And Sam was smart! Hell, he was really bright and Dean wanted him to do something with this brain of his someday. The hunting life was not for his brother and that Dean knew and although the thought of having to part ways with his brother at one point in his life when their lives would go in different directions, he wanted him to succeed. And, yes, a part of him envied him. Sam was lapping up knowledge as if it were milk. No matter what it was, he had it down in no time.

»We’re going.« Sam decided with a dark scowl on his face and ripped Dean from his thoughts. He managed to camouflage his little moment of self-pity by shrugging his shoulders before he grabbed his old leather jacket from his bed. He would need a new one soon, the sleeves were starting to get a bit too short and tight.

»As you wish.«

Outside it was snowing in thick heavy flakes as it had been almost the entire week ever since his dad left and so the walkways were covered in a chunky layer of powdery white snow wherever no one had cared to clear up the path. Dean was not a fan of snow or cold weather in general and under his four layers of clothing, he was shivering enough to make him regret his decision to go ghost hunting with his baby brother during weather like this. At least Sam did not seem bothered by the cold. No wonder, really. He was wearing Dean's old blue down jacket. It was still a bit too big for Sam but he would grow into it in no time. Dean’s old red hat and gloves were keeping his head and hands warm and the scarf was an item he got from Bobby during their last visit after Sam had lost his old one somewhere. Needless to say that Sam’s outfit was as mismatched in colors as it could get but none of them really cared for fashionable outfits anyway. Dean himself only had a thick pair of leather boots, his jeans, a undershirt, a t-shirt, his trusty red flannel and his leather jacket. That had to suffice, he assumed.

It was only eight PM as they made their way outside of the small town, armed only with flashlights, salt from their kitchen and an iron bar each which they got from their father’s supplies. Dean always kept one next to his bed, just in case the salt lines in front of the windows or door would ever get disturbed and something managed to creep inside. One could never be too careful and Dean had learned from his experience with the shtriga all those years ago. Still, seeing his brother with an iron bar made him feel uneasy, to stay truthful. Sam shouldn't know how to hunt ghosts yet. He was only eleven. He was pretty much still a baby. But Dean had egged him on and now there was no going back anymore.

No, that was not the entire truth and he knew that. It wasn't so much that he wanted to scare Sammy with this little excursion into the ghosthunting world. He was almost fairly certain that there really wasn't a ghost anyway that could pose any danger to them and yet he was on his way to this barn. Why? Because if there was a ghost, he would kill it. He would kill it and prove to his father that he was indeed a capable hunter, that he could handle himself, that he could protect Sam and that he was ready for more. Maybe then his father would finally find it in himself to trust him a little more. That was really all he wanted.

Hell, he even felt stupid thinking like that. If his dad would ever hear words like this come out of his mouth he would probably question whether he was a real man or not - or smack him through the room. Only girls would talk like that and Dean knew all too well that neither he nor his father really had the time to busy their heads with stupid thoughts like these. They needed to focus on other things. They had more important stuff in their life. More important even than school or Sammy’s stupid science fair.

Despite the quite early time of night, the world was pitch black around them and only the snow was reflecting the light of the streetlamps and the moon in a glistening white. A beautiful and stark contrast against the blackness all around them. But Dean had neither the time nor the mindset to admire the beauty of nature right in this moment. He wanted to get to that barn as quickly as possible and be back home before midnight to curl up under a mountain of blankets to get a bit of rest. Hell, tomorrow he could sleep in. How awesome was that?

Now that their dad wasn't home, they each had a bed to themselves and though Dean didn't mind sharing a bed with his brother, he thought it was nice for Sam to have his own from time to time. He, however, would have a hard time sleeping in his father's bed sometimes, especially after an argument with the old man. The bed smelled like his father and that sometimes made him uneasy. As a child, he had sought comfort in his father’s smell but now that he was a teenager, it wasn't so easy anymore. He knew that the monsters would not leave him just because he would huddle under his dad's thick leather jacket in search of safety. The only thing he could do was to exhaust himself enough not to care.

»Dean!« Sam's voice ripped him from his thoughts as the little guy suddenly gripped his right forearm hard. Only as he looked down on him did Dean realize that Sam was pointing ahead. And really, there it was. Not even a mile outside the town line with its closely spaced family homes, alongside endless streets, lay the old abandoned farmhouse Sam had talked about and in the darkness, Dean could see the barn rising against a black sky, looking almost menacingly down on them from the small hill it was sitting upon surrounded by fallow acres.

»Well then, looks lovely, doesn't it?« Dean grinned and nudged Sam’s shoulder before he strode on with confident steps. He made extra sure that Sam had to hurry to catch up to him before Dean could reach the farm.

As Dean reached the barn with its wide-open gates, he gulped down hard on the lump in his throat. Had the barn looked menacing before even from a distance now it was absolutely horrifying. Sam was quick to catch up to him this time but as Dean looked down at his little brother, he could already see that Sam wanted to be anywhere but here in this very moment. He guessed that he could still turn around and leave now, but to his big surprise, it was Sam who now strode onwards. Apparently, he took it a lot more seriously than Dean had expected him to after he had taunted him a little before. Well, then again, he should have probably expected that much. He knew how stubborn his brother could be. That was, after all, the big problem between Sammy and their dad.

Dean followed inside without much hesitation despite the fact that this place was far from being welcoming. »So where is that ghost of yours now, huh?« He asked as he was slowly making his way alongside the walls of the barn after they had entered. There wasn’t much to see anyway, only the beams of their flashlights that go caught on metal here and there. Apparently, most of the stuff that had been inside a long time ago was gone, taken as the family had left or stolen by those who could use the things left behind. Now it was nothing more than a forgotten storage, he assumed and the things that had been left were slowly rotting away.

There was an old rusty pitchfork resting against the wooden wall to his left next to an old workbench. A few tools lay strewn about from which the light of Dean’s flashlight reflected back at him. The head of a hammer was still lying around but the handle was missing. Sam was mirroring him as Dean noticed out of the corner of his right eye on the other side of the barn, and he did his best to suppress a small grin at this revelation, though it was hardly a new one anyway. Sam had always done that and he guessed that was pretty normal for younger siblings. They tried to imitate their older brothers and sisters to a certain degree to learn and to become their own persons one day or another.

»I don't know.« Sam replied in a hushed whisper as he was exploring the right side of the barn. The beam of his flashlight got caught on a hook above their heads, hanging from one of the crossbeams. Further back one of the crossbeams looked like it had snapped in two like a twig. Above it, there was a hole in the roof of the barn through which snow was free to fall straight to the ground, making the place look even more eerie than it would anyway. »That's the spot where the old Henderson hung himself!« Sam exclaimed but kept his voice down as much as possible as if he was really afraid that the ghost of _the old Henderson_ would come out and kill him if he was too loud.

»Well, if that's the spot, he sure as hell had a bit too much weight on his hips, I guess.« Crossbeams like these did not snap like this just because some guy would hang himself from it. The alleged ghost had lived on these grounds with his family and it was obvious that he would have taken care of his property. So, this exact crossbeam being so rotten that it would break under his weight when he had hung himself from it, was, in Dean’s eyes, highly unlikely. Those beams were designed to hold the structure of the barn together, after all. No, if there was a ghost and if it was the ghost of the former owner of this place, and if he had hung himself inside the barn, he had not done it from this crossbeam. He ventured on without paying too much attention to his brother now. In the back, he noticed a pile of chairs stacked together like legos at the far wall. He found a lot more of this old furniture in the back, old tables, and chairs, gardening tools, even a child’s crib that had been stored away in this barn at one point. All of the things looked old, almost ancient in Dean's eyes.

Dean was about to turn back to his brother and call this whole thing off now that they had seen the place and Sam got the chance to have this little adventure, as the beam of his flashlight caught on something more interesting. He threw another look back to where Sam was still searching through the old abandoned stuff that had been left behind and walked further down so that he was out of his brother’s line of sight. He found a pile of old paintings and photographs from the early thirties, maybe. Beautiful stuff for people who cared for this kind of trash.

The antique mirror that stood leaned against the wall, however, caught his attention. The glass was stained and almost completely blind by the years it had spent in this unfriendly environment, but the frame seemed pure silver and rich in decoration. It had probably been a really beautiful piece at one point in its life but now it was in here and the world had forgotten about it all together. A part of him wondered what things this mirror might have seen in its life and how old it was. Weird that he felt so drawn to it. Well, if they would steal it, they could maybe melt down the silver and make bullets out of them, he assumed. He would tell his dad about it and- Oh yes, well, he couldn't do that now, could he? After all, he had gone against his dad’s orders just now.

A part of him hoped that there was a ghost that he could hunt down. If he would manage to do that, his father would surely not mind him going against his orders. He would be proud of him instead.

»Dean?« Sam's voice sounded from the front of the barn and Dean shook the feeling of nostalgia that had crept up on him like a phantom off before he turned around to walk back to Sammy. He stopped only a second after he had done so as he realized that now was the moment to give his brother the much-needed scare that would keep him from going on a hunt on his own anytime soon.

»There's nothing here, Sammy. I think we should go back and call it-« He made sure to sound as nonchalant as possible as his boots were crunching over the ground of the barn as he stepped away from the mirror before he interrupted himself and threw his flashlight on the ground before him, just to hide in the shadows of the abandoned furniture so that Sammy would not be able to see him right away.

»Dean?« Sam's voice sounded a little concerned at first and as no response from Dean came, his steps towards the back of the barn became a little more hurried, his voice more panicked. »Dean!«

Never in his life, Dean had had a harder time to bite back laughter at the sound of his brother’s frantic footsteps and the fear in his voice as he reached the spot where Dean’s flashlight lay on the ground, casting dark and foreboding shadows on the wall behind Sam. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from bursting into laughter. »Dean that's not funny!« Sam sounded almost a little desperate by this point and Dean almost felt sorry as he waited for his brother to come closer.

The beam of Sam’s flashlight was hurriedly searching along the walls and even the ceiling but to Dean’s luck it never hit the corner he was hiding in or grazed his frame hunching in the darkness like a monster to attack. Well, this was not that far from the truth tonight. As Sam almost walked past him he jumped out on him with a loud growl, tackling his baby brother to the ground with not much effort whatsoever. Yes, he had feared Sam might hit him with the iron bar out of instinct but to his luck, he didn't.  The screech his baby brother produced as he slammed to the ground was shrill and loud and entirely too funny not to laugh about.

»You are such an asshole, Dean!« Sam spat catching his breath underneath him before he hit Dean against the chest with his tiny fist which only prompted Dean to laugh harder at his brother’s misery. He was an awesome brother - most of the time - but that did not mean he could not torture his baby brother from time to time. If he wouldn't do it no one would and Sammy would never be ready for the real world.

»Your face!« Dean managed to get out between the laughter as his eyes were already burning with tears now fueled by Sam’s fury as he got off Sam and rolled to the side so he came down lying on the back on the cold hard ground. Already his stomach was hurting quite a bit. The expression on Sam’s face had been too good to be true, like a deer in the headlights of a truck.

»That's not funny, Dean!« Sam yelled as rolled over and climbed on top of Dean just so that he could hit him again in the chest. »I'm going home! I hope the ghost bites you in the ass!« And with that, really, Sam scrambled back to his feet to stomp away from him. Dean was still catching his breath as he slowly got up too and grabbed his flashlight from the ground to follow his little brother.

»Oh, Sammy come on!« He still laughed as he was following Sam towards the entrance of the barn but that seemed only to put more oil in the fire that was now his little brother. Sam would explode when he would continue like this and yet he couldn't help it. »What was I supposed to do? The situation just called for something like this!« He was sure that every big brother in the entirety of the world would have done the very same thing in a situation as this. How was he supposed to let this opportunity slide? No, no. It was his duty and he had fulfilled it.

»You're still an ass!« Sam moaned but at least he stopped as he reached the gates leading outside of the barn and back into the snow. »And I think you owe me now.« As he looked at Dean over his shoulder he was still pouting like a toddler. That would probably never change.

»Owe you what?« Dean grinned.

»I don't know … I decide what movie we watch next!«

»No way, Sammy!«

»Or I tell Dad!«

»Jeez! Okay, okay! You decide on the next movie. Now get your ass moving, I’m freezing. Let's go home.« He drove a hand through his short dirty blonde hair as he looked in his brother’s frowning face that only slowly seemed to relax again as he had apparently won this little fight. The moment Dean was sure that this was the end of this little ghost hunting trip, however, Sam's face suddenly changed as he pointed over Dean's shoulder with almost comical wide eyes.

»Dean! Watch out!«

»Yeah, I know there's probably a ghost standing behind me, right? Nice try, Sammy!« Dean snickered as he turned around just so that Sam could have his little moment of fun. To say that he regretted this decision afterward would be a blatant understatement. It was this moment in which he slowly turned around to face the darkness of the barn, how he thought, only to find a pale face staring back at him that he knew he had fucked up big time.

Everything after that happened too quickly for him to comprehend. He swung with his iron bar at the thing in front of him without thinking twice about it like his father had told him to but instead of hitting the creature with his weapon it flew right out of his hand and left him empty-handed and defenseless.

»Run, Sam!« He heard himself yelling but before he himself could run away he found himself flying through the air like he was an old ragdoll that was thrown into the corner of some dirty old kid’s room by a girl that wanted a new toy to play with. He hit the ground outside hard, his back was screaming out in pain and as his head hit the ground not even a second later, the entire world turned a solid black. There was nothing left for him at this moment. Just darkness and not even thoughts managed to creep inside his empty head anymore. And yet, the last thing he was able to feel before there was nothing left to feel anymore was not the snow underneath him or the freezing cold air but a presence right beside him, warm and welcoming, almost as if there was a hand that was holding his own hand, whispering words of comfort into his ears.

****

**\- End of Chapter 3 -**


	4. Chapter 4

The scariest moment in Sam Winchester's very young life was not seeing a ghost for the first time ever outside of the TV and its crappy special effects. The scariest moment in his very young life was not even as he watched said ghost throwing his brother through the air like he was nothing more than a broken doll, or as he had to face this ghost all by himself after Dean had landed hard on the snow-covered ground outside. It was as he had realized that Dean wasn't getting back up. It was as he saw the blood in the snow where his brother's head lay.

He had acted on impulse as the ghost had then lashed out at him and threw his iron bar at the thing. It vanished with a scream but Sam was deadly aware that it was only a short time before it would come back angrier than ever. He didn't care for this ghost in any way, though, as he ran outside of the barn and towards his brother who was still lying motionless in the snow. »Dean!« His voice was ripping through the night and sounded even in his own ears a lot more panicked than he liked to admit. But Dean was not reacting to him this time, not even as he fell to his knees next to his brother to shake his shoulder as hard as he could. »Stop that, Dean!« He growled low as he placed a punch against his right shoulder. »That's not funny!« With horror, he noticed the way his brother’s left shoulder hung from its socket and how weird his left hand and wrist looked.

Of course, deep down inside he was aware that his brother was not playing dead and that he was not trying to fuck with him now in this situation but the child that he still was with his eleven years of age chose to believe that his brother simply was an asshole even in this situation and not really hurt because it made things easier in his mind, because he knew how to work with a situation in which his brother was simply an asshole and not dead. He had experience in dealing with this type of shit from Dean, after all.

»Dean, _please_!« But even his pleading did not prompt his big brother to wake up or open his eyes. He remained dead silent and motionless on the ground as more blood slowly oozed into the snow.  Realizing that he was on his own in this situation now with no weapon to fight off the ghost if it would return for him or to finish the job on Dean, he frantically started to search the pockets of Dean's clothes. He found the almost empty bag of salt that his brother had taken from the motel room and began making a circle in the snow with shaking hands but the salt only melted the snow around Dean. It was not enough to do it again so everything Sam could hope for was that this would be enough to keep the ghost at bay for he didn't dare running back inside the barn to get the iron bar he had thrown at the thing. What if the ghost would grab him and break his neck if he would make the mistake of running back in? No. This wouldn't be smart! Dean wouldn't do something stupid like this!

After rummaging through Dean’s pockets for the second time, he found the cell phone that their father had given Dean at one point so that they could stay in contact if necessary. It was for emergencies and nothing else and frankly, Sam himself had never used the thing before. For a moment he paused. He didn't know whom to call. Should he call his Dad? Bobby? The ambulance? His brother needed medical attention but he didn't know how those things worked! He knew that they had insurance and that their father only wanted to use that if there was no other way around. Was this such a situation? But how would his father react if he would call him? Should he even care? Dean was hurt and that was the most important thing! His father surely wouldn't get angry, right? Hell, even if he would get angry, he would surely come back as fast as possible, right? But that wouldn't be fast enough.

Dean needed help now and he didn't need their father screaming at Sam on the phone in anger because of their stupid decision to hunt down some ghost they had known nothing about before they came here. He should have known that this was stupid! He shouldn't have told Dean about it! He should have just acted as if he was scared and ask Dean to call their hunt off instead!

He clutched the phone in his hand harder. Of course, he had known that his brother had egged him on, that Dean had wanted to provoke him so that Sam would go with him and that only because Dean had wanted to prove something to their dad, as far as Sam could tell. Before he knew what he was doing his fingers had dialed Bobby’s number.

※※※※※※※

**1984 - Lawrence, Kansas**

He remembered the first time his father had slapped him vividly even though he would much rather not. Dean was five years again. Three months ago he, his father, and his baby brother had left their house running from a fire that had killed his mother and ever since that awful night that he would never be able to forget, the father he remembered from before was gone.

Dean remembered how his father had been before the fire and maybe that was the worst part of it, he figured as he sat on the dirty carpet of some stupid motel room and watched his baby brother crawling across exactly that carpet. Sam had started to crawl only a few days ago, before that, he had just lain around and wiggled across the carpet like a little baby seal more or less. Dean had been ecstatic as he noticed the development that his little brother had gone through although he didn't quite understand it yet. Needless to say that Dean had cheered his brother on along the way ever since Sammy had started to try and brace himself on his chubby little arm and legs.

A part of him envied Sammy even. He would grow up with their Dad as he was now and he did not have the same memories as Dean had. Unlike Sammy, Dean knew the man their father used to be. He knew that loving man who had not shied away from having fun with his son, who had never been too serious to pull funny faces at Dean. His eyes flicked towards the door of the motel room as he heard shuffling steps outside but they walked past their door and he let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. Before his mother's death, he would have jumped up and down in excitement as soon as he would hear the wheels of his dad's black Impala come to a hold in their driveway. He would run up to him as soon as he walked in through the door only to be scooped up by his dad so that his dad could then proceed to carry him around the house on his strong shoulders.

He and his Dad had always been a good team right from the start. It was true that Dean had been his mother’s little boy and that he had loved her dearly and liked to stay by her side at all times, but this was just different, he guessed. As much as he had been a mama’s boy, he had been dad’s little buddy. They had spent the Sunday afternoons together when his dad wouldn't need to work at the workshop, working on the Impala as his dad had taught him the most important things to know about any car and later his dad had read him stories or tucked him in. The two of them had done everything together when his father had been home and the time in between, Dean had been his mother’s shadow. They had started the day together in the bathroom, washing, brushing their teeth, shaving - even though Dean had only watched his father shaving off his stubbles - and getting dressed. He had been his father's constant companion, mirroring what he did, learning from imitating him, and even more so after Sammy had been born.

He had loved being a big brother right from the moment he had learned that he was going to be one, but like most children, he had been jealous as well as he noticed how much more time his mother would spend with Sammy. Instead of acting up, however, he had latched onto his dad even more and he had been heartbroken as his father had moved out for a short while after a fight with his mother.  He remembered how he had been asking his mother every day when she would tuck him into bed when his Dad was going to be home. He remembered how he used to hug his mother when she seemed upset after the phone calls she had with his father and how he would tell her how much his Dad loved her and how much _he_ loved her. Back then he had not really understood any of that, not even that he was defending his father for something he didn't even really knew the whole scope of. He still didn't. But back then he had partly blamed Sammy because his parents had fought a lot more after Sammy had been born.

But how could he blame his little brother when he had nothing to do with all of this?

No, Dean had quickly realized that it wasn't his brother's fault and decided that grownups sometimes just were like this and that he would probably never properly understand them for he would never turn out like this.

With a sigh, Dean pulled Sam closer as the baby had almost reached him now and Sammy was happy to comply as Dean pulled him onto his lap. This way he could at least continue watching television even though he wasn't all that interested in it anyway. Sam, however, seemed in awe of those cartoon figures while Dean was too worried to care. His eyes shifted back and forth between the TV and the clock on the wall above the TV.

He hated it when their dad would leave them in this motel room like this. The place smelled funny and there were strange people outside on the parking lot or walking around the perimeter. Sometimes he heard strange noises coming through the walls. The worst thing about being left alone in here was, however, if his father would not be back at nightfall. He could hardly sleep in this big bed all alone.

It was not always pleasant to sleep in a bed next to his Dad, but the bed was huge and Dean felt safe with his father next to him most of the times. That was unless his father was drunk off his ass. One year ago, Dean had not known what being drunk meant and he wished he still wouldn't know it. He had never been afraid of his father in the past. He had always felt safe with him around, had always searched for his presence and warmth and despite how angry his father always was, as soon as night would fall and Dean would sleep in the bed with his dad, his dad would still pull him close when he was afraid or had a bad dream.

When he was drunk, however, Dean just wanted to hide somewhere.

He had learned very quickly that beer was something that made adults angry and frightening. Whenever his father would come home drunk, Dean would try to be as quiet as possible because otherwise his father would start yelling and screaming and then Sammy would start crying and everything would get infinitely worse. No matter how much Dean loved his father and wanted him to be around more, sometimes he was glad when he wasn't around at all.

He rested his chin on Sam's curly head and tried to glue his eyes to the TV and no longer watch the clock. He was tired and hungry and outside the world was already dark. It was snowing again and Dean even wondered if it would ever stop snowing anytime soon. Inside the motel room, it was freezing cold because the heater wasn't working properly and his father had prohibited him from turning it up higher because he feared that the bloody thing might explode on them. Judging by the rattling sound coming from it, the concern seemed justified.

»You are a bit warm, Sammy.« Dean found himself addressing his brother as he started to notice the heat that was radiating from the small head that was tucked in underneath his chin. Sometimes he wished his brother would be able to speak already. It would certainly make things a little easier. At least then Sammy could tell him what was wrong with him. There probably was nothing wrong with him anyway but still, his head felt warmer than it should be. »Don't get sick, okay?«

As it was half-past nine, Sammy was screaming his lungs out and Dean didn't know why. It was not often the case that Dean didn't know what to do to calm Sammy down but in this second he was completely desperate and afraid that their neighbors would call the cops on them if he wouldn't be able to calm Sam down enough so that he wouldn't be as loud anymore at the very least. There was still no sign of his father but Sammy was only getting worse by the minute.

His eyes flicked back to the clock as he tried to comfort Sammy with a toy that he was wiggling in front of his little face, but Sam only cried harder. What should he do if their father wouldn't come home soon? How could he calm Sam down? Shouldn't he bring his little brother to a doctor?

He wished Uncle Bobby would be here now to tell him what to do. Bobby always knew what to do, he always knew what was best.

Dean jumped to his feet as the thought registered in his brain and sat Sammy down on the carpet again in the process even though Sam was reaching out to him immediately. Uncle Bobby! Of course! While Sam sat crying on the dirty old carpet, Dean sprinted towards the phone next to the bed on the small bedside table. The phone was hidden underneath one of his father's shirts that he had to throw on the bed first. He knew Bobby’s number by heart already, mainly because his father had hammered it into his brain quite vigorously in case something would happen to him and now Dean was glad that he had done that because his small fingers were pressing the buttons quickly before he pressed the phone tightly to his ear. He already got a headache from Sam's screaming.

As he listened to the dial tone with furrowed brows and tense shoulders, his thoughts circled only on the hope that Bobby was home and would pick up. What if he wouldn't pick up the phone? What was he going to do? He could always run to the front desk of the motel to alert the owner of his situation but he would much rather not drag strangers into it or draw attention towards them. His father had made it pretty clear that it wouldn't be good if he would do something like this. He didn't want someone to take him and Sammy away from his dad. He didn't want to get separated from Sammy.

The phone was ringing way too long already in Dean’s eyes. Bobby was either taking his time or he wasn't there! His heart was racing just thinking about that possibility. »I hope you have a damn good reason for calling me in the middle of the night, John.« The gruff voice of Bobby came through the phone and Dean's heart almost stopped from the relief to hear his voice. Hearing Bobby now was like seeing the light for the very first time. His panic fell off of him in an instant.

»Uncle Bobby!« Dean hiccupped and to this point, he had not even really noticed the thick lump in his throat but now, after he had heard Bobby's voice, he could feel the tears streaming down his face immediately.

»Dean?« Bobby sounded beyond surprised to hear him answer back and not his father but he was quick to realize that something had to be wrong for Dean to call him like that. He could probably hear Sammy through the phone as well. »Dean, what's wrong, Son?«

»It's Sammy! He won't stop crying! His head is really hot and Dad isn't here!« He almost wailed into the phone at this point. His dad hated it when he would cry. Crying had never been a problem really in the past, but that had changed ever since his mother’s death. Since then his dad hated it when he would cry.

»Where is your dad, Dean?«

»I don't know! He wanted to be back for dinner but he didn't come and now I don't know what to do, Bobby!« He felt his own head starting to turn hot and probably a bright red as he was gasping for air between his sobs and the hiccups but Bobby’s voice remained calm and Dean imagined that he could hear the sound of keys jingling on Bobby’s end.

»Relax, Dean-o.« Bobby said and his voice was soft as he did. Dean tried to imagine Bobby’s face in front of him. That always managed to calm him down. »Take a deep breath now, okay? Would you do that for me, Buddy?« Dean nodded quickly before he realized that Bobby couldn't see that and took a deep, deep breath that he held for a second or two before he released it. Already he felt a little calmer again. All thanks to Bobby's presence on the phone. »Good. I’m coming, okay? But it will take me an hour at least. You stay with Sammy and try to cool him down a bit, alright?«

»Yes!« Dean replied quickly thankful that Uncle Bobby was already on his way out the house at least judging by the sounds of it.

»Good. I'm hanging up now Dean. I’ll be there as fast as I can. You stay brave until I’m there, I know you can do that.« As the phone call ended, Dean wished it wouldn't have. He wished that the conversation would have continued because after he only heard the dialing tone again, he felt utterly lost and lonely. Dean remained at the phone for another moment and just listened to the dial tone, unable to move, before he hung up the phone and turned around to look at his brother. How should he cool him down? But then his eyes fell upon the window next to the door and realization hit him with a sledgehammer. It was snowing! The snow was piling up only a few feet away from their door in the parking lot because no one was making the effort to clean it up just now.

Dean bolted to the door within an instant and was out there in a matter of just a few seconds before he grabbed a patch of snow with his bare hands and stormed back inside. »Sammy, I'm here!« He turned to his brother on the ground and without closing the door in his back, he fell to his knees to pull Sam closer. His face was bright red from crying and from the fever he was battling with but he was still immediately searching for his big brother’s presence as Dean came back to him. »Look, Sammy, snow!« But Sam only continued crying even after he carefully placed a bit of snow on the crown of his tuft of hair. He didn't even know if that was going to work, but he placed his hopes on it. Everything to make Sammy feel better! »You wanna play peek-a-boo?«

»What the hell is going on in here?« He felt his heart slip into his pants as he turned his face towards the still wide open door. His father leaned in the doorframe for just a moment as if he needed the extra support and deep down inside, Dean knew exactly that this was indeed the case. His father's words sounded slurred as he finally moved on. »What's all the fuss about? Huh? And why the hell is the door wide open, Dean? What are you doing with your brother anyway? Shut him down, would ya?«

»But, Dad-«

»No, Dean! For fuck’s sake, how often do I have to tell you that I don't want to hear any ifs or buts from you when I give you an order!« Slurring his words or not, his voice was still impressively loud when he started to shout.

»But Dad, Sammy is sick!« Until this point, Dean had never expected his father to lash out at him with much else than words but as the back of his father’s hand hit his cheek so hard that it almost knocked him off balance, Dean didn't even feel the pain at first, not even the sting of betrayal by this man he had looked up to his entire life. For a moment, he just felt incredibly sobered up all of the sudden. His panic for Sam and the situation was gone and his head felt strangely empty but around him, the world was still spinning, Sam was still crying, his dad was still fuming with anger.

The spell was broken the moment his father picked up Sam in annoyance. »Jesus, Dean! Your brother has a fever and you don't call me? Why did you put snow on his head, Dean? Have you lost your mind?«

»Uncle Bobby told me to cool him down.« Dean answered without thinking too much about it. His mouth just responded despite the shock he was still in. He couldn't even cry.

»You called Bobby?« His father all but yelled as he started rummaging through his bags with Sam still on his arm. He was even more furious than before. »Really, Dean, can't I leave you alone for two hours?« He wanted to yell at his father and tell him that it had been a lot longer than that, that he and Sammy should be in bed already and fast asleep with their daddy watching over them while they slept. He wanted to tell him that it shouldn't be his job to worry when Sam got a fever and that he had to call someone for help. »Dean!« His father yelled as he turned around to face him again with anger visible on his face.

»I didn't know where you were!« He finally burst out into tears once again but this time it was not out of fear. It was the anger overflowing in his little mind, the betrayal of his father and the slap across his face. »You just left and you didn't come back and Sam wouldn't stop crying!« He managed to get out between sobs and for once, Dean could watch how his father's expression changed visibly. Was this regret flickering over his face?

A part of him wanted to believe that. His father did not hold the gaze long enough for Dean to truly understand his expression, though. Maybe because he did not want Dean to know or understand. He had apparently found what he had been looking for in his stuff as he pulled a small bag of pills out of it. Dean watched him take one of those pills out and crush it before he walked over to the kitchen to prepare a bottle for Sammy as if Dean wasn't even in the same room as if Dean was no longer existing in the same world.

Dean could only sit on the carpet and watch his father calm down Sam. He didn't talk to Dean anymore, didn't yell at him, only fed Sam his bottle with the crushed pill inside and put his baby brother to bed as soon as Sam had stopped crying. Only as this was taken care of, his father turned his face halfway towards Dean, pausing at Sam's bed, his hands braced on the wooden frame. »Go to bed, Dean. We talk about that tomorrow.« His voice was still sharp but at least he was not yelling at him again.

And Dean did as he was told. He changed into his pajamas and crawled into the big bed to rest on his side close to the edge. Never in his life had Dean wished more for a teddy or any kind of stuffed animal than now but everything he had had in his early life, had gone up in flames with the rest of their home three months ago.

※※※※※※※

As the phone call reached John, he just left the small townhouse in Windom, Minnesota and the night hung low about that very much pleasantly ordinary neighborhood that reminded him so much of the one he had once lived in back in Lawrence. Then again, he assumed that all suburban neighborhoods like this one or the one in Lawrence looked pretty much the same. A part of him had felt a bit guilty for coming to this place so regularly now despite leaving his kids behind in some dingy motel room and sometimes, when he would lie awake for longer than usual in those dirty motel beds with his two sons lying huddled together in the second bed snoring away the night happily, he thought about telling his boys all about these trips to Windom.

Dean and Sam deserved to know the truth, he guessed, after all, this was not just about him. But although they deserved the truth, this was not only about his boys either. This was about Adam too - and his mom. The two of them were living a peaceful, quiet life here in Windom and they deserved exactly that - a peaceful, quiet life. Kate didn't even know about the fact that he had two older sons. If she would know, she would probably ask him where they were when he came here, and rightfully so. He didn't want to drag them into all of this crap. It was enough already that Sam and Dean had been dragged into all of this at such a young age.

Still, as he stepped out of the house and threw a look back over his shoulder to see Adam at his window upstairs waving at him, he smiled back curtly. No, that boy deserved something better than being a Winchester and having this curse follow him around. Maybe he was selfish and that was the reason why he didn't tell his boys. The truth was, he enjoyed those weekends with Adam, far away from all this crap and his mission. He wondered how his life would look like had he never learned about those monsters that went bump in the night. Maybe he would have found his way to Windom with his boys, maybe he would have fallen in love with Kate and married her even, maybe the five of them would lead a completely normal life then and Dean could be overprotective of _two_ younger boys instead of just one.

Heaven knew Dean had enough love in his heart to give to two little brothers anyway.

That thought always managed to bring a smile to his face. It was true that he was not always fair to Dean, but he had always admired his protective nature and his big heart. To Dean, it had been clear as daylight to take care of Sammy from the start even before his mother’s death. Sam had only been a few days old as Dean had first started to embrace his role to the fullest, eyeing every adult that came near his baby brother critically and standing between Sam and every intruder. He would have probably watched Adam just as carefully. Then again the opposite was just as possible, he guessed.  Dean had been extremely close with his mother and he might not have accepted Kate - and if Dean wouldn't have accepted Kate, _Sam_ wouldn't have either. His boys were loyal to the core to one another and though he was proud that they were, he was deadly aware of the more serious implications and problems that came with this attribute.

He was about to get into the Impala, as his phone rang. He was in no hurry to pull the phone out of the left pocket of his leather jacket as he leaned against the Impala. He recognized the number on the display right away and couldn't help but roll his eyes but still, he accepted the phone call. »Hey, Bobby - I appreciate your help and all, but you know that I call you if I need any more-«

»John.« The deep, rumbling voice of his friend was cutting sharp in this moment and conveyed the urgency that he seemed to feel which in turn made John tense up. Deep down inside, he knew that Bobby Singer was not a person to call without proper reason and that something had to have happened that he would call at all. »You need to get your ass back to Winona right now and no excuses this time.«

»What's wrong?« The question escaped him without giving it another thought as he now opened the door of the old car on the driver’s side.

»It's Dean.«

John had probably never driven as fast as he did in that night on his way back to Winona, Minnesota. He had not parted on the best terms with Dean and John was very aware of that. It wasn't as if he was blind to the way he was treating his boy, but he didn't treat Dean the way he did out of sheer sadism. No, he loved his boy more than anything in the world, in fact, and that was exactly why he was treating him the way he did. It was not sadism or hate at all, it was to make Dean strong and resilient. Dean was a softie with a smart-mouth and that would be his downfall one day. If he wanted to have a long life in this field of work, he needed to be a lot tougher and stronger and that was the only reason why he was egging him on and pushing him beyond his limits.

As those thoughts were rushing through his mind, he couldn't help but clutch the steering wheel a little harder while the road was flying past the Impala. Street lights were only a blur in the corners of his eyes and as if someone wanted him to arrive quickly back in Winona, there were hardly any cars that would hold him back too much.

No matter how much he pushed down on the gas, though, it was still a three-hour drive from Windom to Winona. Two hundred and seven miles lay between him and his boys and John felt as if he would be too late no matter how much he tried to be there in time. Bobby had been quite snippy on the phone. He only told him that Dean had had an accident and was now on his way to the hospital with Sam and although that would usually not be something that John would lose his head over, this time it was different and not only because Bobby had explicitly asked him to come back home to his sons.

He thought about the conversation he had had with Dean in this night if it could be called that at all. He had almost forgotten all about calling his boys in the first place after he had spent the entire day with Adam. They had been out watching a baseball match of the local league before venturing off and into the woods for a bit father and son bonding time. He had taught Adam a thing or two about hunting, though not in any way close to the way he had taught Sammy and Dean. It had been a nice day and like always when he was with Adam, he had been able to just forget about monsters and demons for a little while. When he was out in the woods with Adam, he forgot about Sam and Dean, about Mary, about the family business. When he was with Adam, he was just John Winchester, some random mechanic who happened to be Adam’s dad.

He had already been half an hour late for the scheduled call as he had noticed his slip-up right before dinner with Kate and Adam. He had walked outside onto the porch to make the call in private while watching the snow fall from the sky. Maybe he should not have snapped at Dean the way he had after Dean had mentioned that stupid urban legend in complete innocence, he would admit that he might have overreacted but he stood behind his words. Dean was not yet ready to go hunting on his own and if his boy needed harsh words to understand that, he would get them from John for sure. He would not coddle Dean. There was no time for shit like that in a life as theirs.

Yes, he would love to spend Sunday afternoons with Dean working on the Impala or going fishing with his boys. He would love having a completely normal family life with his boys. He would love for them to know Adam even. But this was not their life and it would never be. And in their life, his boys, especially Dean, needed to be a lot stronger than they were now, a lot stronger than John was even.

Still, he hadn't needed to be that harsh with Dean but he had seen Adam’s little face in the window next to the front door beckoning him to come inside for dinner and he had just wanted to end that call and brush Dean off as quickly as possible.

»Goddamnit, John!« He cursed as he slammed his hands against the wheel. Suddenly, the anger was almost blinding. He had had a perfectly normal and beautiful, yes, peaceful day with Adam, his third son, far away from the boys he already had and he had simply forgotten about them in that cold, dirty motel room. And for a brief moment during this day, he had thought that it would be so very easy to just leave it all behind and start a new life. He was aware how horrible of a father he was for thinking like that but the truth was, being with his older sons wasn't easy for him.

They were a constant reminder of Mary, the love of his life and thus a constant reminder of his mission and his crusade against that demon who had taken Mary from him. Hell, Dean looked so much like her already it hurt to even look at him. He had his mother's eyes, he had the very same freckles as she had in the same spot even. He had the same dirty blonde hair and the same smart-ass attitude. He had her nose and her lips even. He was so much Mary's son that John couldn't stand looking at him or being near him. And Sam … Though Sam seemed to favor the Winchester side of the family more, he was a constant reminder of Mary's death and the failures he had collected under his belt. Sam's green eyes were always judging and never let a mistake go unpunished. But Adam … It was easy being with Adam. He didn't know about monsters and demons. He was just a boy. A perfectly normal healthy five-year-old boy whose mother was not burning on the ceiling of his nursery. He was a perfectly healthy normal five-year-old boy with whom John could enjoy watching stupid little league baseball matches on a Saturday and pretend that there was no evil in the world despite corrupt bankers and politicians.

No Latin, no mythology, no rituals, no incantations, no monster lore, no salt in front of windows or doors. Just an easy, normal life with an easy normal kid. That was all he had dreamed of after Dean had been born. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect life. With Adam, he could indulge in that fantasy but as soon as he would go back to his older boys, there was nothing perfect and easy anymore. Only cold nights in dingy motel rooms with rattling heaters and two growing young boys that had to share a queen size bed next to him. In nights like these, when he wouldn't be able to sleep and look from his place at the table where he had been engulfed in his research over to his boys in their bed, he often thought that would he be able to turn back time and relive it again, he would do so - but only to not fall in love with Mary Campbell.

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. Chapter 5

In his whole entire life had Sam never been more afraid then in this very moment as the ambulance arrived at the barn on the discarded farmland and ended his long wait and uncertainty just like that. The entire time, Sam had spent watching over his big brother, kneeling beside him in the snow, not daring to move or touch him too much as he just held Dean’s hand in his own. Through his gloves, he had not been able to tell if Dean’s hands had been cold, yet he had tried to warm him just a bit. Even if Bobby hadn't told him already that he should not move Dean, Sam would not have done so anyway. He had seen on TV that he was not supposed to move an injured person as long as there was no clarity about the sustained injury. And so, all he could have done was kneeling in the snow beside his brother while his mind had been racing and supplying him with all kinds of horror scenarios. What if Dean would be paralyzed? What if he had gotten brain damage from his head wound? What if Sam should have done something to help but didn't because he had been too afraid to hurt him further? There were so many possibilities and so much fear inside of him as he had waited for that ambulance. It had felt like hours until he had seen the lights of the ambulance van and the noise coming from the road towards them but even then he hadn't walked away from his brother to wave them over, just clutched Dean's hand and his flashlight harder.

And as if his panic for Dean hadn't been enough as it was already, Sam had listened carefully into the night and looked towards the barn in fear that the ghost would show up again to hurt Dean further - or him, maybe. However, the ghost never came back to attack a second time until the ambulance arrived and flooded the barren farmland with the paramedics that it had spit out so that they could start their work busy and hurriedly like ants crawling all over the place. Two of them had shoved Sam to the side to look at Dean, another person had started talking to him but everything had been just a blur and now Sam could not even recall if he had answered those people at all. He probably had not. However, he remembered at least that he had told those people his name and the name of his big brother as they had carefully placed him on a stretcher and quickly hooked him up to some weird looking machine after they had pushed him into the ambulance truck. He had scrambled in after them, unable to really process what was going on around him. 

Even as he was driving in the ambulance, he never let go of Dean's big hand and he had never felt smaller in his entire life. What would he do without Dean? What if he would not wake up again? It was too soon for such fears, he chided himself and yet he couldn't stop those thoughts from creeping up on him against his will. As long as he could remember, Dean had always been there, always been at his side, protecting him against all odds, his big hand always just inches apart from him so that Sam would always be able to find it and hold onto it. Even at night, when they would sleep in separate beds because their dad had run off on some stupid hunt to help strangers instead of staying with his kids for once, they would lie as closely as possible, gravitating towards one another naturally and Dean’s arm would always dangle from the bed close to Sam for him to grab him if needed. 

Sitting in this ambulance with Dean unconscious on a stretcher was worse than every little monster that might hide under his bed or inside the closet. In the past, Sam had never believed in monsters or ghosts but he had done so after Dean had told him the truth years ago and though he knew that they were real and that his father and brother were hunting those things down, this, right here, felt a lot more real than any ghost would ever be to him. Even now, after he had seen one for himself for the first time. This was nothing compared to his brother in this condition. 

Bobby had promised him on the phone that he would come and that he would tell their father to get his ass back to Winona as well, but Bobby was four hours away and Windom approximately three hours. Even if his father would have left Windom immediately after Bobby's phone call, Sam was aware that he would spend half the night alone inside the hospital, helpless and uncertain of what to do. At least that was how he felt as he was navigated to a chair in the waiting area of the emergency room by a nurse. She was friendly enough, he supposed, especially when taking the late hour into account, but her warm smile and her friendly eyes couldn't fool Sam. He just sat there, silent, waiting for someone to tell him anything and didn't even answer that nurse as she asked him if she could bring him a hot chocolate or a tea as if he was just some little kid. 

Well, he supposed, in their eyes, he was just that. 

Suddenly, he started to detest the way this nurse spoke to him and how she would bend down to be at eye level with him as he sat in this uncomfortable white plastic chair. He had never really had a problem with adults talking to him as if he was a child because, well, he was one. Now, however, it annoyed the crap out of him and he wondered if that was the way Dean always felt too. He knew that his brother had never liked being treated like a child, but Sam had never quite thought about the reason behind his brother’s aversion in this regard. 

He couldn't stand the way the nurse was talking about his brother and his injuries or the way she told him that everything was going to be just fine. Nothing was ever just fine in their family and slowly Sam started to fully grasp that their family seemed to be cursed indeed. He couldn't explain their bad luck in life any other way and although it was a very childish way of looking at things, he chose to believe it and the evidence pointing towards this being a fact was almost overwhelming too. 

They didn't know their grandparents because both sets of grandparents had died before Dean had even been born. He didn't really know his mother because she died when he had been only six months old, nailed to the ceiling of his nursery and set ablaze by some monster. His dad was pretty much a lunatic ever since in his quest to find that very monster that had killed his wife and destroyed their lives. His brother was loyal to their father to the point where he would kiss the boots his father had previously kicked him with if John would demand him to and was already following in their father's footsteps. All of this was beyond fucked up and no longer explainable by just a streak of bad luck. And now Dean was injured and Sam didn't know if he was going to wake up again or how bad it was.

He was alone in this hospital and he could only wait for his father to come. 

As he was finally led to the room they had put Dean in, the nurse was again by his side for she apparently was too thick to notice how much it annoyed the eleven-year-old boy at her side. Although he had been so eager to see his brother, the moment they stopped in front of the door, Sam had suddenly frozen up and been unable to make another move. To this point, it had never been more clear to him that he had never seen Dean like this. He had never really seen him sick, too. Dean had always been strong and now he was afraid to see him any other way. 

The nurse smiled at him and placed her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture that could not have been more intrusive if she would have tried. »Don't worry, everything is going to be fine.« She said again as she stood at the door, waiting for him to go inside. However, all Sam could think of was that he wanted to scream at her. How dare she promise him something like this. How dare she promised things she would not be able to keep. He felt her eyes resting upon him as if she would await a response, but all he did was straighten his back and move on. 

Seeing Dean in this hospital bed was probably the hardest thing he had ever seen in his life and way scarier than facing a ghost for the first time. He looked like dead in the white bedsheets. He was pale and connected to all those stupid machines and Sam couldn't really understand why. He had seen more than enough movies to know why and he was not stupid by any means either. He knew that the machines were helping to keep Dean alive and nothing had ever scared him more than this thought alone. Still, despite the fact that, in theory, he knew all these things, now, he was not able to connect the dots. There was only white noise in his brain. 

At the end of Dean’s bed, his file was already out into that small compartment that Sam had seen on TV in those stupid hospital shows. As he passed by it, he could see Dean’s name on the file. Dean M. Winchester. Just like that. He didn't know why but reading his brother’s name on this file felt utterly devastating as if there had still been the chance that it was all just a misunderstand and the boy in this bed was not Dean at all, just some random stranger who looked like Dean.

Without listening to the nurse and her stupid questions, Sam moved closer towards the bed to climb on the uncomfortable plastic chair that stood right beside the bed. For a moment, he was sure that he had felt a warm presence wafting in the air right on that very spot but it was gone the moment he sat down next to his brother. Dean looked thin and not at all like his big brother anymore. The teenager in this bed was a stranger. The neon light made him look like dead and made his freckles stand out even more. It was rare for Sam to really notice them most of the times but now he did and it reminded him of all the photos he had ever seen of their mother. Dean already looked a lot like her and Sam was aware that he would grow up to look like the spitting image of their mother. Suddenly, the thought filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort that he could not explain, but the reality of things was quick to pull him back into the true horror of all of this. 

What if Dean would not wake up again? He would never leave Sam behind like this, he knew that and yet it was all he could think about. 

※※※※※※※

**1984 - Lawrence, Kansas**

Dean Winchester was almost six years old and Christmas was right around the corner. Only one month almost to the day was separating him from his big day and like every five-year-old boy, he expected great things from that day. Turning six was a big deal, as he told his baby brother who probably did not even understand what he was ranting on and on about as of late. But to Dean turning six was the biggest step in his life and he was sure that there was nothing that could ever top that. When he would turn six, he was almost an adult, at least Uncle Bobby had said so with a little twinkle in his eyes as Dean had told him what he was going to do for his birthday. He would have a massive party that much was certain. And, of course, he would invite Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim and all their other friends. His fifth birthday hadn't been great and that had been quite the bummer. He still remembered it vividly to this day how his daddy had fallen asleep drunk on the couch of their motel room in the middle of the afternoon. There had not even been a cake or, better even, a slice of pie for him. They had stayed at this place for three months after his mother had died and their house had burned down and Dean hadn't quite understood why his daddy hadn't even been looking for a new place to live in.

He had not dared to wake him up because he had been too afraid that his father might get angry then. Instead, he had spent the day playing with Sammy and watching TV. Of course, he had been sad that his dad had forgotten all about his birthday, unlike Uncle Bobby who had called him at least and after Dean had told Bobby that his father had been asleep almost the entire day, Bobby had arrived the next morning at the motel and demanded John to either come with him or that he would take Sam and Dean. 

They had talked outside of the motel room, probably so that Dean wouldn't hear them. Of course, he had eavesdropped on their conversation as he always did. He hadn't understood it then and he wasn't sure if he did now, but Bobby had been angry about something.

His father had agreed to spend a few weeks at Bobby's place after that day and for a while, it had been good, his father had even become more like himself again. But then they had left and everything only got worse, somehow. Dean would probably never understand adults, he decided as he was watching Sammy play in the bathtub. Of course, they would bathe together. He could not possibly leave his baby brother alone in the bathtub. In a few months, Sammy would turn two. That was a big deal as well - at least for Dean. 

»You know, Sammy« He addressed his brother as Sam was driving Dean's toy boat through the water with a happy little gurgling sound escaping him all the while Dean just sat there and watched for the moment. »when I turn six, the adults will stop treating me like a baby. And then we can go and do whatever we want because I just take you with me then. You just have to tell me where you wanna go. We could go to the zoo.« He wondered if he would get a new toy too. Bobby had given him the boat Sammy was playing with right now last time.

Dean was not the biggest fan of bath time, but he enjoyed sitting in peace with Sammy like this. He was old enough to wash himself of course, after all, he was turning six soon, but Sammy wasn't and he needed someone to watch out for him while their father was doing the dishes. He heard him clattering with the plates and the cutlery while he sat in the warm water with Sam. He remembered that their mom had liked to stay by his side during bathtime, but Dean understood that his father had a lot to take care of all alone and so he couldn't always watch over them 24/7. That was why he had to look out for Sammy when they would be alone in the bathroom. However, the door was always either open or left ajar so that his dad would hear them. 

Soon, Sam would be big enough to play with him in the tub. They would probably make a mess of the bathroom and Dean was already looking forward to that day. Well, even now Sam made a mess out of the bathroom when he would start splashing his big brother with water and foam and Dean was happy to counter these attacks.

As their father entered the bathroom this time, he seemed calm for once. During dinner, he only had one beer in contrast to the three he usually had. He had told Dean that they would go to Bobby’s for the holidays, but mainly because he wanted to do some research on something, as Dean was very aware of. He didn't quite know what it was his father was researching when they were at Bobby’s place or when he would read those scary looking books only to start scribbling in that leather-bound diary of his frantically, but as long as this would keep his daddy away from drinking beer and get angry, Dean would not oppose. Plus, he was always looking forward to seeing Uncle Bobby. His dad was not a very good cook. There were a few things he had mastered but a proper Christmas meal was surely not one of those dishes. 

»You ready for bed, Sam?« His father asked as Sam looked up at him out of big green eyes. They had been blue in the beginning and his mom had told him that all babies were born with blue eyes until an angel would decide which color their eyes should get. Dean had never questioned that or wondered why some random angel should care about their eye colors. Sam looked from their dad to Dean and then again to their dad before John was bowing down to pick Sam up and lifted him out of the bathtub. Sam just kept on babbling nonsense, the moment his father started to towel him dry and wrap him in his little blue towel. He was quite vocal for such a small thing. »Five more minutes, Dean-o. I expect you to be squeaking clean when I get you out.«

»Aye, Sir!« Dean grinned and was glad to see that his dad even flashed him a small smirk before he left the bathroom. Things weren't always bad between them. Yes, his father yelled a lot and he was sometimes really scary when he was drunk and Dean had not forgotten about the slap a few months ago - or the slaps that had followed since, every time his father had gotten angry with him beyond belief, but they were still a good team despite all of this. Dean still loved his father. But it wasn't always easy. Dean knew by now which buttons not to push on his dad and if he would be careful of them, he and his dad were best buddies. But now that Sam started to speak and move around more on his own, Dean had not only watch out for himself to not push his father’s buttons but for Sammy as well. Sammy couldn't understand all of this yet, after all.

He watched his father leave the bathroom to dress Sammy in his pajamas and give him a new diaper before putting him to bed. He didn't close the door, only left it ajar so that he would hear Dean and the other way around too. It was evenings like this when Dean had the most hope that everything would turn out okay in the end and that his father would someday be his old daddy again. He would start carrying Sammy on his shoulders like he had done with Dean and play with them in the backyard as soon as he would have found a new house. Maybe close to Bobby even. 

Dean was listening to the sounds of the motel room, the TV running in the background, his father rummaging around with Sammy, Sammy’s little babbling that only started to die off slowly. He was not a very difficult baby, luckily, and he could fall asleep literally everywhere. Putting him to bed was hardly ever a tedious task. As soon as his back would hit the mattress, Sam would be out of it for good.

Dean enjoyed the last moments alone in the bathtub as he was now playing with his boat himself. He had already washed up and made sure that his father would be pleased when he would come back to collect him as well and so he liked to just play a little. Sometimes he felt that there really wasn't much time for him to play anymore. He would play in preschool, sure, but it was hard for him to get his mind into it there because he was always so concerned about his little brother. When Sammy was not with him he felt a little lost sometimes. He had a very clear task when he was home with his brother and that was to look after Sam but when he was in preschool that was not the case because Sammy was home with their dad. In the beginning, this change of pace had been hard for Dean to adapt to. He had not spoken to the other kids but just sat in his spot and waited for his dad to pick him up in the afternoon again while the other kids had been running around and playing.

By now he was slowly starting to accept that preschool was the place where he could really be a kid and not have responsibilities, a place where he was just Dean and not Dean _ , Sam’s-big-brother _ . He even found a friend last month. His name was Billy and he had a little brother too - Jason. Jason was not as young as Sammy, but two years younger than Billy still and Billy liked to complain about him and how much he hated that he had to look after him all the time or how much he hated sharing his toys with Jason. Dean liked Billy, he was fun to play with and they liked the same things, but the way he talked about his baby brother was something Dean really couldn't get behind no matter how hard he would try. Sharing had never been a big deal to him. 

As long as Sammy would be happy and laughing, Dean would feel good about what he was doing as if he was doing everything just right as a big brother. And yes, he liked it that Sam was looking up at him as he did. He liked that Sam was fixated on him more than on their dad. He liked it that he had been his brother's first word and not their dad. Well, then again, Sam had not exactly said  _ Dean  _ either, but to him,  _ Bean  _ had been close enough. 

His father's footsteps ripped him from his thoughts as they were coming towards the bathroom door. He wondered if his father would allow him to stay up a little longer tonight to watch that western movie that was on later or if John would maybe read to him in bed. But then the phone rang and the footsteps stopped. He heard his dad sigh as he turned around and walked back to the other end of their motel room to get the phone that was located in the kitchen for some odd reason. 

Dean listened in as his father picked up the phone and started talking but he could only hear his father's muffled voice from the other end of the motel room. the conversation went on for about two minutes before his father hung up and then he heard him hurry towards the front door. He didn't shout anything to Dean in the bathroom as he went out of the motel room and let the door fall shut behind him and so Dean was sure that he would be back any second now. So, he leaned back in the tub again and waited, thinking about what story his father would have to tell him as soon as he would come back to get him out of the tub.

Of course, he was already almost six and all grown up and of course, he would have been able to get out of the tub and into bed all by himself, but his father had told him that he would come back for him and so he waited. His father hated it when he wouldn't listen to his orders. 

He started to grow concerned as the clock over the bathroom door had counted away half an hour and the water was slowly getting colder and colder but still, he didn't get out. His dad would soon be back and get him out and probably apologize that it had taken him that long. Still, Dean wondered where he had wandered off to. Maybe there was something wrong? Maybe he had ventured off to get something from the store down the road for Sammy? Maybe there was an emergency? He didn't even know who had called his dad. 

He started to feel tired as another thirty minutes were ticked away by the clock. The water was already completely cold by now, the heater inside the bathroom turned off, and through the small bathroom window, he could see that it had begun to snow again. By now he was already freezing as he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his thin arms around his legs in the process. 

What if something had happened to his dad after he had gone outside? The thought was not a pleasant one, of course, but it still crept into his mind just like this. His dad would never just leave him behind like this without a proper reason, after all. 

Dean didn't know when he had fallen asleep or how that should be even possible. As he woke up, the clock over the bathroom door showed that it was already past midnight and suddenly this realization struck him so hard that he started to cry. The tears that were rolling down his cheeks all of the sudden even surprised him so much that he didn't know what to do about them. He was freezing cold and shivering and apparently his father was still not back home and by this point, Dean was sure that he had left and would never come back. He was sure that he had done something that made his father go away and leave him and Sammy finally. 

No, surely that couldn't be it! Why would he leave just like this? Surely something bad had happened otherwise his daddy would have told him to get out of the bathtub and called Uncle Bobby for sure. He wouldn't just leave Sammy and him behind without a word like this, not even when he was angry with them! What if the monster that had killed his mom had taken his dad now too? What was he supposed to do then? 

He braced his hands on the rim of the bathtub, but as he tried to stand his knees felt wobbly and so he sat back down again. It wasn't so much that he couldn't stand or get out on his own but as he tried, fear had hit him again. What if his dad would come back and be angry that Dean had not followed his orders? Maybe this was a test for him? Maybe he wanted to see if Dean was able and willing to listen to what he said? He would be angry when he would see that Dean hadn't done what he had told him. 

He could always just switch on the hot water, he guessed, but then again, he wasn't allowed to. So, he sank back, curling in on himself as best he could and waited. He waited and watched his toy boat float on the water surface. He didn't even want to play anymore. He wanted out of this tub and into his pajamas and snuggle up in bed. He wanted his dad back home. He was tired and cold and afraid and sad - all of this at once and there seemed to be nothing that could lighten up his mood in any way. At least Sammy seemed to sleep peacefully. 

As another flow of tears threatened to stream out of his green eyes, he rubbed over his face forcefully with his forearm. He was not going to cry like some little baby. He was going to be six years old next month! Still, that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to cry and bawl his eyes out and he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't a test at all but rather a punishment. Maybe this was it. His father was punishing him but Dean didn't know why. He hadn't done anything wrong. Adults were unfair like that, he guessed. It couldn't be helped. 

Suddenly, there was a gush of air that sent shivers down his spine and as Dean looked around, he saw that the bathroom window was still closed. Maybe the front door of the room had opened? But no, there were no sounds. For a second, he had been sure that he had heard the wings of a giant bird flapping softly in tune with the gush of wind. That was nonsense, of course. And as he sat here now in complete silence, staring at the clock over the door as if that would make anything better, he felt empty and drained and he didn't even want to cry anymore. 

He felt betrayed by his father because now, for the first time since his dad had left him behind like this, there was another thought corrupting his brain. Nothing  _ bad  _ had happened to his dad out there. There was  _ no  _ emergency. He had not left him and Sammy to run off. He had forgotten about Dean. He had heard something on the phone and stormed off to investigate and he had  _ forgotten  _ about him. And when he would come back he would smell like beer and smoke and he would yell at him. He had forgotten Dean existed. He had forgotten that Dean was waiting for him. 

There was a tiny bit of warmth creeping back into his body but he was sure that he just imagined things. It was just a tiny spot on his right shoulder as if there was a hand resting on his skin but of course, there was none. And yet he felt something in the air - like air wafting over a flame. That was what it felt like. A presence lingering about in the bathroom with him. There had been times when he had thought it was a ghost but the presence had followed them around, then he had thought it might be the ghost of his mother, then he had remembered that he had always felt this presence around him even as his mother had still been alive and he knew that it usually came when something was wrong. Was this God? They didn't visit church and they weren't religious but he knew about God, of course. Maybe that was him, trying to console him.

It didn't quite work, though. The invisible warm hand remained on his shoulder while the clock kept ticking the time away. It was almost one in the morning as Dean started to doze off again but was shaken awake by a noise coming from the front of the motel room. He couldn't quite name the noise at first but then he started to realize that it sounded like a key scraping over wood before the door was unlocked at once and heavy footsteps entered the motel room. He wanted to cry out to his father but then he decided to remain quiet. What if that wasn't his dad but a burglar? His father would surely come running to the tub immediately as soon as he would notice that Dean wasn't in the bed. 

So, he listened to the footsteps walking through the motel room, then he heard the squeaking of the bed springs and two heavy thuds as something fell to the ground. His father’s heavy steel capped boots. He felt as if the invisible hand on his shoulder squeezed him tightly as for a long moment nothing happened after that sound. Then, however, there was another loud noise that sounded an awful lot as if someone was jumping out of bed and indeed the sound was followed by hurried footsteps that came rushing to the bathroom door. 

»Dean!« He had never been that glad to hear his father shout his name as he came rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door open so hard that it hit the wall behind it heavily. John Winchester did not even care for the noise right now. He looked panicked and hounded by something. His dad was beside him and hurled him out of the tub and into a soft towel so quickly that Dean could hardly grasp it after that long a time. »Dean -  _ for God’s sake _ , why didn't you get out, Boy?« He couldn't place his father's mood as he scooped him up to rush him towards the bed. Only there he sat him down on the edge of the bed to rub him dry with the towel, bringing back warmth and circulation into his body while he did. He couldn't say if he was angry or worried or just generally freaked out. He would never understand what was going on inside the head of an adult.

»You told me to wait.« Dean found himself hiccupping as he couldn't help the tears from flowing once more. He tried to hold them back, he tried not to sob or hiccup, but there was no chance that he would be able to stop that and for once his dad did not scream at him because he cried like a little girl. For once, his father just wrapped him in a tight embrace as he was kneeling on the ground in front of the bed. The huge hand of his father that was suddenly pressed against the back of his head gave him comfort and stopped him from shaking and for a moment, it felt like it had before the death of his mother. For this moment alone, this man who always yelled and shouted and drank too much was his daddy again. 

»Dean-o … You shouldn't have waited, Buddy.« He then said as he broke apart from Dean again although he would have liked the hug to continue a little while longer. It was far too rare that his dad would allow something like that and Dean was a very tactile boy. There was no apology coming his way and Dean knew this because his father probably thought that he had done nothing wrong at all. He felt and saw no need to apologize to his little boy. Instead, he helped Dean change into his pajamas and got into the bed next to him after a moment.

As John switched off the light inside the room that night, Dean could still feel this strange presence linger about next to his side of the bed and he curled in on himself as he instinctively moved closer to the edge of his side of the bed, closer to this presence sitting next to the bed on this old moldy chair that stood in the corner of the room and farther away from a father who didn't care about him at all.

※※※※※※※

As John Winchester arrived at the small hospital of Winona, a thick blanket of snow was covering the parking lot and he could watch the janitor clean up the entrance way as he rushed towards the front doors. He had had more than enough time to really think about the situation on his drive back from Windom and yet he was none the wiser as he walked into the hospital and turned straight towards the front desk. 

»Winchester.« He almost bellowed at the young chunky woman that sat behind a computer screen and looked up at him out of tired brown eyes. Under different circumstances, she would have John's pity for working the graveyard shift although the night seemed rather uneventful judging by the almost empty waiting area. He didn't think that Sam had used one of their various aliases in a situation like this and since he still did not know what had happened exactly and in what condition his eldest might be, he was almost certain that Dean was here under his real name. »Dean.« He added. »Dean Winchester. He was admitted earlier tonight - with his brother.«

»Are you his father?« The nurse asked mildly enthused by the whole situation as she brushed a lock of curly mouse brown hair behind her left ear. 

»Yes. Where is he? Can I see him?« 

»Of course, Mr. Winchester. But we need you to fill out some forms. Your younger son wasn't able to give us all the details we needed insurance-wise.« John rummaged shortly through his pockets before fishing out his wallet and handing her his real insurance card with impatience written quite clearly on his face.

»Can the formalities wait until I have seen my boy at least?« She pursed her thin lips but before she could say anything there was another nurse coming to John's rescue from behind her, emerging out of the break room. 

»It's alright Mildred.« The other young nurse addressed her colleague and John could see the brief exchange of looks. He didn't care for their personal drama, after all, they were not in some crappy hospital drama series, but it was quite clear that they did not like each other. »I take care of that. Mr. Winchester if you would follow me.« The young nurse who had appeared beside her colleague, Mildred, smiled at him warmly and under different circumstances, John would have maybe considered that she could be flirting with him right now, but all he cared for in this moment was the well-being of his son or at least to see Dean and finally hear from Sam what had happened. Then again, he could figure what had happened. He knew his sons, after all. He had had time enough to think about everything during his drive back home. He knew Dean and he knew how stubborn he too sometimes was. It was not just Sam and he himself who were stubborn as mules from time to time. It was a family trait, handed down from generation to generation, although John liked to call it being persistent. 

Dean had acted against his strict order to not hunt down that urban legend ghost with Sam, which in itself was quite out of character for his eldest. Dean usually did what he was told. John was not always satisfied with the results, but usually, he did at least try to follow orders and rules and he never openly rebelled against him. He was, in essence, a good son. But apparently, he had done so now and landed himself in a dangerous, possibly life-threatening situation because he was too young and stupid to see how dangerous this whole business really was.

Nurse Parker, how she introduced herself to John, led him through a maze of white hallways smelling like disinfectant and sickness. He had always hated hospitals but never more than in this moment. Of course, he tried to get information out of Nurse Parker but she refused to give him any substantial answer, only kept referring to the doctor that was in charge tonight. It was frustrating, to say the least, but John knew better than to argue. He knew that he was walking a tightrope in this situation. He should not draw any negative attention to himself or his boys in getting frustrated with that nurse, after all, he had left his two young children behind for over a week and had planned to be away for at least two more. 

That in itself might not be the worst thing a father could do, even in the eyes of CPS personnel, after all, Dean was fifteen and capable of looking after himself and Sam but John doubted that CPS would turn a blind eye to the fact that the Winchesters were more or less homeless, strictly speaking. The last thing he needed was CPS looking into their situation and pulling the school registers to see how often his boys were changing schools. Sam might thrive in school nonetheless, Dean, however, was sinking like a stone and that was evident by his bad grades. The boy had never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was not completely stupid either. 

Yet, no matter how worried he was for his son, he was also angry. Dean's stupidity had cost him his hunt for this vampire nest and would maybe even get their family into serious troubles now. 

The anger he felt towards his oldest son, however, dissipated the moment he stepped through the door that led into his room. He hardly noticed how Sam jumped off his chair to run towards him and threw himself into John's arms like he had not done for years as it seemed and although he returned the hug and wrapped his arms tightly around Sam, his eyes were fixed on Dean on this bed. He had a tube down his throat to help him breathe and an IV stuck in his right hand. A monitor was beeping next to him peacefully and quiet, his left arm was in a sling and his left hand in a cast. He looked pale and … tiny. His freckles stood out heavily on his pale skin thanks to the loud neon light and his hair stuck out through the bandage that was wrapped around his head tightly. 

Dean had always been a tiny child and in John's eyes, he would always be that fragile little thing that he had held only moments after he had been thrust out into this brutal world. For once, Sam did not argue with him right away. He had expected his youngest son to scream and yell at him for leaving them alone like this, but Sam knew better than to do stuff like this when there were strangers around. As he let go of John after a while, John took the chance to slowly step closer to the bed but he didn't dare to touch Dean in any way.

»The doctor will be here in a few minutes.« The nurse suddenly ripped him from his thoughts and broke the spell that was hovering in the room. The moment of utter shock slowly faded away as he turned to Sam again with fury in his eyes this time.

»What the hell happened Sam?« He demanded to know after the nurse had turned on her heels and walked out of the room to give the family of three a bit more privacy. He could hear her footsteps walking down the hallway. His voice was a dark growl as he spoke to his youngest and he couldn't care less about the frightful glance Sammy shot him.

»We went out to hunt that ghost he told you about on the phone.« Sam finally admitted as he cast his eyes to the floor. »First there was no ghost but when we wanted to leave he was suddenly there and attacked Dean.«

»Jesus, Sam!« John couldn't help but shout at him but he lowered his voice immediately afterward staring holes into his eleven-year-old son’s face. »I thought you were smarter than this, smarter than your brother! I thought you would talk some sense into him! Apparently, I can't leave you guys to your own devices for even a week without one of you landing in here!« 

This was it. He could feel it in the air as it ignited and made Sam explode. »Well, maybe you should not leave us alone then every time? How about that, huh? Maybe you should just once be there for us! Or maybe you shouldn't have berated Dean on the phone like you did!«

»I did not berate him in any way, Sam and you know that my work is important and that I can't just sit around and hold you guys’ hands all the time. You are old enough to vent for yourself and I can expect as much from you two!«

»Of course, you did! I know Dean! You did make him feel dumb and that's why he went out to hunt that ghost down! He wanted to make you proud like he always does!« 

»Enough of that Sam.« He finally brushed him off but he couldn't quite deny that his words stung and that they did that because John was aware that Sam was right. »I will lose my mind if I hear any more of this nonsense.« To both their luck, the arrival of the doctor put an end to their argument and after Dr. Turner had introduced himself to John, John turned to Sam once more. »Would you go and get me a coffee, Son? Get yourself something you want too.« With that, he handed Sam his wallet who took it only reluctantly.

»But, Dad, I want to hear what's wrong with Dean!« He pleaded and yet one dark look from his father sufficed to make Sam disappear through the door with a dark scowl on his face. Maybe it was not fair to send him out, he knew, after all, he knew just how strong the relationship between his sons was. Hell, Sam's first word had been Dean’s name! And yes, he remembered that moment and how it had hurt, but Dean's huge smile had lit up the entire room and that had been enough for John to swallow his ego. 

The doc was friendly enough considering the late hour and how exhausted and tired he had to be judging by the dark circles under his eyes as he was telling John about his son’s injuries and all he could think about was how fucking expensive all of this was going to be. Dr. Turner was still a young, but probably capable physician who was still low enough in the pecking order that he would be condemned to endless night shifts chewed up and spit it out by their flawed medical system. 

He should not think about money when his son was lying in a coma because of the head injury he had sustained. He should not care how much all of this would cost him and yet it lingered in the forefront of his mind and he couldn't help it. As Doctor Turner left him after what felt like an eternity of delivering information to him, John felt none the wiser as he slumped down in the chair that Sam had previously occupied. Dean's head injury had caused a cerebral hemorrhage and his brain to swell. Apparently, they had been able to get the swelling down enough but Dean couldn't breathe on his own and they still weren't sure if or when he would wake up again. Just a small fall to the ground had done that. His left wrist was sprained, his hand broken and his shoulder dislocated. Whatever had happened, it had been bad and quick and Dean should have been able to defend himself. 

Only as the doctor had referred to the fainted bruises all over Dean's body had his heart dropped a bit but he had been quick to come up with an excuse. He had told him that Dean was into rugby and wrestling and tended to get hurt quite a lot during practice. The doc had lapped up the explanation for apparently he either didn't really care or didn't want to bother himself with those injuries. Hell, it wasn't like John would beat Dean black and blue, after all! Yes, he was harsh to Dean, yes he was punishing him when he would fuck up and yes he would deliver a slap or two when he felt that it was necessary, but that was hardly like beating his boy up. He loved Dean, after all. More than anything in the world he loved his two boys - he only had a hard time showing it sometimes. 

As he was left alone with his son now he couldn't do much but drive both hands over his face and stare at Dean's pale face. He was already fifteen. The years had gone by so fast. Yesterday, he had held Dean in his arms and fed him his bottle of milk and now he was fifteen in the blink of an eye, lying in this bed hooked to machines. It wasn't fair. That was the only thing that really came to his mind. It just wasn't fair. 

Sam came back to the room after quite a while with a cup of coffee in one hand and what John could only assume to be a cup of hot chocolate in the other. John's wallet was poking out of the front pocket of Sam’s jeans as he stepped inside. He was not alone as he came inside, though, and John almost felt like there was an electric shock running through his body. He had known that Bobby would come too but seeing his friend arrive at the hospital now made him feel odd. Still, John got up to take the coffee from Sam and leave the seat next to Dean to Sam again who climbed onto the chair immediately without much to say. He would probably refrain from speaking to John for a while now and John didn't even care that much about it.

He didn't say anything as he stepped towards Bobby and Bobby repaid him in the same manner as he just stared motionless at Dean for a moment. John had always known how close the bond between Bobby and his boys, especially Dean, really was and though sometimes he had felt like Bobby was intruding on his territory, now he felt nothing like that, oddly enough. He just placed a hand on the shorter man's shoulder and squeezed it as if Bobby was the father who was worried sick. It helped him to transfer all that baggage onto Bobby's shoulders. It made it all more bearable. 

****

**-End of Chapter 5-**


	6. Chapter 6

A week had passed and nothing had changed except for the very few items that were strewn all over Dean’s boring white hospital room. Even the world outside of his window was still the same. A snow-covered, almost idyllic scenery. Truly a winter wonderland. There had not been many visitors until now, only two chicks from school that liked Dean and had probably hoped for something like a sleeping beauty moment. But Sammy had been given greeting cards for his brother and one of Dean's teachers had brought a small bouquet of flowers for his hospital room. Still, the display was … well, sobering. Dean had no friends at school. Until now, Sam had never quite realized that as a fact. His brother was so cool, after all. He had always envied Dean for the presence he possessed. When Dean would enter a new school, their first day would not go by without some random girl clinging to his arm by the end of it. His brother had this whole bad boy James Dean thing going for him already and he was not even an adult. And Sam could not deny that this was quite frustrating for him. 

Well, his dad liked to say that Dean might have gotten the good looks but Sam had gotten the brain. He didn't think that this was very fair of his dad. His brother wasn't stupid and they all knew this. Dean was far from being dumb. He was pretty smart even. He picked up on stuff that neither Sam nor their dad would ever notice, small details and patterns. He knew a lot about weapons and cars and he was street smart. Someone like Dean would not have a hard time getting by just by himself while Sam would drown. Yes, he loved to learn and he loved school but what good would his academic achievements do him in the long run? They wouldn't help him when his car would break down in the middle of the night or when he had to strike a deal with someone. Dean could do all of that already and he was only fifteen. 

He blinked at this realization and tore his eyes from the get-well cards on the small table underneath the window for a moment. The newspaper in his hands crinkled as he grabbed it tightly. Dean’s birthday was coming up. It was only a few days now. He was going to be sixteen and he was lying in a coma. He would not be awake for his own birthday and maybe he would never wake up again. He could sense that the doctors were starting to get a little nervous now. They had expected Dean to wake up sooner and he still hadn't. He was still asleep and still had a tube stuck in his throat. It pained him to see his brother like this and it pained him even more when he couldn't be beside him to watch over him the way Dean had always watched over him in the past. But  _ he  _ still needed to go to school and he needed to go home too. No matter how nice those nurses were to him, no matter how sweet they found it that he, the little brother, clung to his big brother like this, they would not just let him stay overnight. And so every night, his father would get home with him, cook him canned ravioli, drink his beer and sit in front of the TV until he would fall asleep while Sam would do the dishes like Dean usually would. They hardly spoke and when they did they would fight. 

His father didn't seem to care about Dean. He was hardly here at the hospital anyway. At least not when Sam would be here. He would hang out in some bar around the corner or be out with Uncle Bobby. Hell, Bobby was here more than his dad! Bobby had rented a room in the same motel but he always stayed overnight at the hospital. It had not been easy, even for Bobby and his dad, to convince the nurses to let him stay but they had succeeded somehow. Of course, Sam had been furious. He hadn't understood - and he still didn't - why Bobby got to stay when he had to leave.

Needless to say, the hospital staff had not been too happy about the mechanic staying inside this room in the beginning, but they seemed to have accommodated to the fact that none of them would ever leave Dean completely alone. They seemed to respect it even. One of them was always at Dean's side, at least as far as Sam was aware for he didn't know how it was when he was at school. The deal was that their father would stay with Dean during the school day and that Sam would have the afternoon with Dean. He would do his homework here and read the newspaper to Dean. In this state he was in, he couldn't protest at least. 

Of course, he didn't know if Dean could hear him but it put his mind at ease when he would read to Dean. He hoped that his brother - wherever his mind was at - could hear him and felt comforted by his voice. 

With a sigh, Sam folded the newspaper and put it aside. Outside, the sky was dark already. Soon his dad would come in stinking like a brewery and demand him to go home with him. »Hey Dean« He addressed his brother although he knew that he wouldn't get an answer. It was weird not hearing Dean's voice for so long for it was the one thing Sam could remember was one of the first things that he had ever heard. Dean had always been at his side. He had always been there, always within arm’s reach. 

Even when they would sleep in separate beds, they would lie on their sides as close to the edge as possible so that they would only be inches apart from each other. Even when Dean would lie on his back, one arm would always dangle from the side of his bed in a way that made sure that Sam would be able to find him in the darkness if something happened. That was how it had always been between them. When he would wake up from a nightmare, Dean would be there within arms reach. A silent presence of comfort for Sam. He didn't even really mind sharing a bed with his big brother. At school, they wouldn't talk about stuff like this, of course, because it was weird for a teenager to share a bed with his eleven-year-old brother. But Sam didn't mind. He wondered if Dean did. He had never really thought about it. 

Would Dean like a bed for himself? Was he sick of sharing with his brother? As far back as he could remember, Dean had never had things for himself. He had always shared and Sam had never questioned that. Not even when he had talked to other kids in school that would lament about their older or younger siblings and how much they hated to share their stuff. To him, it had always been … natural that they shared. 

»What would you like to do on your birthday?« He felt tired and his eyes were burning again from the loud neon light that hurt them so much. He wanted out of this hospital and he wanted his brother at his side again. Dean had always made fun of how Sam would be sick of him when he would get older but now he couldn't even fathom a life without Dean. »You get your pie, of course. I told Uncle Bobby. He said he’d make one himself if you would just wake up for us, okay? Hell! Uncle Bobby’s pie, Dean! Come on! You know how good they are! Just … Just wake up, okay? I mean … what am I supposed to do without you here? Me and Dad … We always butt heads. What are we going to do without you? We’ll tear each other apart. You have to wake up, okay?« There was still no reaction. Of course not. Dean was an ass like this and he really shouldn't be surprised about it. »Please, Dean.« 

There was a knock on the door frame. The door itself was wide open and as Sam raised his eyes from his brother to turn around in his chair and look at the door, his father was waiting for him with heavy-lidded eyes already. Hell, he was drunk, alright. 

»Come on Sam, time to go home.« He hated the way his father spoke when they would be at the hospital. He would speak in a soft low voice to make sure to sound like the good father he wanted to portray as to not draw negative attention towards them. »Bobby is running a little late tonight but he’ll be here in a few minutes but for us, it's time to go home and have dinner. Tomorrow is another school day, after all.« 

»As if you would care.« Sam mumbled as he slowly got up from his chair and grabbed the thick down jacket that hung over the backrest of the armchair he spent his days on since Dean got admitted.

»What was that?«

»Nothing.« Sam sighed as he put on his jacket. His hat and gloves he had pushed into his backpack. He was too afraid to lose these things, after all, they had been Dean's just like the jacket. His scarf he had tied to the bed so that Dean might see it when he would wake up and know that his little brother would be back surely sooner or later. His father had only frowned about it as he did, but Sam didn't care if he thought he was being sentimental or girly. »Goodnight Dean. See you tomorrow.« He turned to his brother one last time before he left the room with his father. 

The drive back home was an uncomfortable one. Neither of them really spoke because they both had nothing to say to the other person. Sam was just angry that his father had the audacity to come to his son’s sickbed drunk out of his god-damn mind and even drove in the car like this. It was beyond reckless and irresponsible at this point. It was almost as if he  _ wanted  _ to have a crash, as if he wanted to kill them both in this stupid car. And his father, well, he rarely spoke to him anyway because every time they would try a conversation they would only get mad and start fighting. It was always the same thing. And now that Dean wasn't with them it was even worse. Dean was very much the cushion between Sam and his father. He seemed to know exactly what to say or do to de-escalate situations at all times. He always knew the right words, always knew when their dad was close to the breaking point and when it would be best to just shut the hell up.  

Dean was an empathetic guy. That was the truth in all of this. He tried to deny it, of course. He acted tough and cool and sarcastic but he was a very empathetic person. He felt when something was wrong and he knew what to say or do to make others feel better. That was something that could not be learned from books. He was compassionate and really the only thing that was holding this family together at this point. Had it not been for Dean, Sam was sure that their dad would have already parked him at Bobby’s and left him for good. 

They had not said a word until they reached the motel and even on their way into their room they didn't speak. His father threw his thick leather jacket carelessly on the couch before he turned his attention to the kitchen. His father was a terrible cook. He had always been and so he didn't cook. He would just throw the contents of random cans of food into a pot and heat it. Maybe it was better this way. Last time his dad had tried to make his boys a proper breakfast with scrambled eggs and bacon he had almost set the kitchen ablaze. It would have been funny had it not been for their dad’s bad temper. Of course, John had taken it as a personal affront. It had been his try to make everything better, to have a normal family life with his boys but it had all ended in yelling and screaming and crying again until he had left them and slammed the door shut behind himself. He knew that their dad had been overwhelmed with his two little sons and this whole situation but Sam, unlike his brother, would not accept that excuse. 

Dean had never lost his temper with him. What their father had not managed to do, Dean had. He had started cooking for them somewhere along the lines and he was a great cook. He had started to take care of the laundry and the cleaning. Sam remembered how Dean had taken him to the washing salon and sat him on the dryer because the vibrations had made him laugh. Other times, Dean had put him in prison, sitting him in one of the laundry baskets, but every visit to the washing salon had been a new game. His father, of course, had taken all of this as an excuse to taunt Dean and call him a mother hen. Well, he was exactly that, of course, but it was still humiliating to call a young boy that. Still … Dean had never said anything about it. 

He watched how his father started preparing their meal and he sat down with the TV as background noise at the table to have dinner with his dad only a little while later. »Dad« Sam finally broke the silence as he was almost finished with his food and looked up at his dad. The food that was on his plate was barely recognizable. It was overcooked and the color was beyond suspicious but Sam knew better than to mention any of that. His father looked horrible. »you could use a shave, you know?« The glare his father shot him was answer enough, he supposed. Still, with a sigh, he continued. »Dad … What if Dean doesn't wake up?« Until now, he had not dared to ask that question. It had felt wrong to him to even consider this as a possible outcome in all of this. His brother could not simply not wake up. He had to come back to them. 

»He will.« His father replied almost a bit too stubbornly in Sam's book.

»What makes you so sure?«

»Because he just will, Sam, okay? Jesus Christ, could you just drop it for once in your life, Sam? Is it really too much to ask of you to just let me have dinner in peace for once?«

It was Sam who exploded this time as he jumped from his chair and was nearly ready to throw his half-empty plate at his father. »Yes, it is!« He yelled and felt how his entire head turned red at once as if set ablaze. »As long as you spend your time drinking instead of being with Dean, I don't care if you have dinner in peace! You are a father, you don't deserve a peaceful dinner! Not as long as you act like you don't care about your own damn kids!« 

»You better watch your mouth now, Kid.« 

»Or what?« Sam growled. »I'm not, Dean, Dad! I'm not scared of you! I don't care if I get your respect or make you proud! I can't wait to be away from you anyway! And Dean would be better off without you too! At least then he wouldn't go ghost hunting because he wants to make you proud and he wouldn't run around in the snow for hours to be a good son in your book!« 

»You act like I would force him.« John growled as he got up from his chair slowly now. »You guys need to learn how to protect yourselves, that's why he  _ runs around in the snow _ as you put it! And you will start all of this soon too! Because it's important! Because it will save your goddamn lives! Dean gets this! He is not such an ungrateful little brat!«

»Ungrateful?« He laughed. »What should I be grateful for? Tell me! For a father who drags me through the entire country and does not care for a single thing I do? For living in crappy motel rooms? For not having a home? For being on the road constantly? For not having any friends at all? No, Dad! I'm not grateful that I have such a crappy father!« Sam was sure his dad would slap him across the face but he didn't. Instead, his eyes rested on Sam's face for a long moment before he turned to the couch, grabbed his jacket and left the room without another word.

※※※※※※※

**1989 - Tulsa, Oklahoma**

His dad had been gone for over a week now and still, Dean was not sure how he felt about it. Was he glad that his dad wasn't here? Yes. That was the one kind of truth that he did not like to admit to anyone - but especially not to himself. But he  _ was  _ glad, yes. It was more peaceful when their dad wasn't around to yell and toss things around. Sammy seemed more at ease too. As Dean watched over to him from the kitchen sink as he was doing the dishes the way he usually did, he found his brother sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework. He was only six and yet eager to achieve great things in school. already his handwriting was a lot better than Dean’s and unlike Dean, Sam had no troubles reading. It was almost insane how quick his brother learned. 

Despite the fact that he was indeed glad that his father wasn't here to disrupt their peace, a part of him was worried too. His dad and he had the arrangement that his father would call him every two days at seven PM straight so that Dean would know that everything was alright and when he wouldn't have done so by midnight, Dean would call Bobby to go to his place. Every time his father would be late for their call, Dean would start getting nervous. No matter how harsh their dad was to him, no matter how much he would yell at Dean for the most silly things, he loved him and he was scared of losing him. 

He had begun his training alongside his dad after he had turned six but as it appeared, his father had no interest in doing the same with Sammy yet. Dean was glad that he left his baby brother alone. He knew that Sam would have to start his training too sooner or later, but he hoped that his dad would just let him be a child for a little while longer. Sammy didn't need to know about monsters yet and he shouldn't know - at least not as far as Dean was concerned. His brother had him check under his bed every night for the boogeyman still, after all, no matter how often Dean would tell him that there was no such thing as a boogeyman - at least not as far as Dean would know. Anyway, Sam was not ready to know that monsters were indeed real.

»When’s Dad coming home?« Sam's voice caught him off guard a little but prompted him to shift his focus on him entirely for the moment. He almost forgot washing up the dishes that were piling up in the sink by now. He liked things to be in order even when their dad wasn't here to scream at his face about dirty dishes but even Dean would let the used plates pile up for one or two days before washing up and then he would curse about his own laziness only to do it the same way next time.

»I don't know Sammy.« He sighed quietly as his eyes met those of his little brother. Of course, Sam wanted to know and who was Dean to deny him that right? He would have loved to tell Sam everything he knew but that was simply not possible. He was still relieved enough that Sam didn't remember the incident with that  _ thing  _ last year. A Shtriga, his father had called it. A thing of nightmares and horror movies - which he was technically not allowed to watch yet. But now it was only a matter of time until Sam would have to learn about monsters and about what their dad was doing. Before Sam could even begin to ask another question, Dean threw a glance at the clock at the wall behind his brother. His dad was already over half an hour late for his call and Dean started to feel uneasy. Of course, he could call him just as well but last time he had done so … Well, he hadn't been able to sit for a week and he wasn't too eager to relive that punishment once again. »Come on, finish up your homework and then it's bedtime, alright?« 

»You're so bossy.« Sam frowned before he turned back to his homework and Dean could only snort about that comment. 

»Yeah, that's because I’m your big brother and thus I’m the boss when dad's not here.« Which was probably one of the upsides of being a big brother in the first place. However, Sammy would not be Sammy would he not complain further just to stretch out the time until he would need to go to bed. 

»That's what you always say!« Sam moaned and threw his pencil onto his book just to emphasize how little he thought of Dean right in that moment.

»That's because it's the truth. Don't be a little bitch now, Sammy.« Sam just rolled his eyes at those words but he continued his homework at least and that was all that really mattered to Dean right now. As long as they were alone, he needed his brother to behave. They could be normal brothers when their dad would be back but until then, they were something else - and honestly … that didn't just suck for Sam. Dean was ten, he wasn't an adult, not even close to being one. He was only ten years old and he wasn't supposed to take care of his six-year-old brother like this. He was supposed to fight with Sam and egg him on to do stupid shit like last year on Halloween when he and Sammy had dressed up as Batman and Superman. 

He, in his makeshift Superman costume, had jumped off first and landed safely, poor Sammy hadn't. Well, of course, he hadn't. Batman couldn't fly, after all. Not that he would have told that to Sam, though. He had broken his arm and it had been the most hilarious thing Dean had ever experienced. Even though the beating his father had rained down on him later had been quite the bummer. Hell, he remembered that day vividly. Sammy’s cries and how he had driven his baby brother to the ER on his handlebars because Bobby had been home either. They had still gone out trick or treatin’ that day and Sam had gotten way more candy than him out of pity.

It wasn't fair. Yes, that was the point, wasn't it? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he should tell his little brother to do his homework. It wasn't fair that he was the one tucking him into bed. It wasn't fair that he was the one who would check for monsters under Sam’s bed or that he was the one who would cook dinner for both of them. But what was he going to do about it? Hell. That was just how life was. Life wasn’t fair. 

Dean’s attention, however, was torn from Sam the moment he heard a car stopping right in front of their door in the parking lot. The headlights shone into the room through the window over the television before they were turned off with the engine of the car, then a car door fell shut and a second later, he already heard heavy footsteps walking up to the door. Dean was at the door the moment it opened, ready to greet his father - only to find Bobby instead. Right then and there, Dean felt his heart drop into his pants. No matter how much he loved Bobby, that he was here now could only mean that something had happened to their dad.

»Uncle Bobby!« At least Sam did not seem to feel the same concern for their father’s well-being as Dean as he ran straight towards Bobby to throw himself into his arms and Bobby, of course, wasted no time to respond to the hug properly, lifting Sam off the ground in the process.

»Hey there, Boys.« Bobby smiled as he broke apart from the hug again. »Your dad called me.« He turned to Dean shortly and as if he would know what was going on inside his head, he even granted him one of those rare smiles. »He told me the car broke down. He's on his way back but it will be easier for him to have the car taken to my junkyard to get it fixed. So, pack your stuff boys, you are going to check out of this room now.« 

»What about school?« Sam asked with wide eyes. Of course, that question would come from Sammy and not from Dean and no one seemed surprised. Instead of asking stupid questions, Dean went straight to packing up their belongings that were strewn all over the place. He didn't like that explanation that Bobby had given him, but he wouldn't question him in front of Sam either.

»Your dad said he’ll take care of that tomorrow. As long as you stay with me while your dad is fixing the car, you’ll visit the school in Sioux Falls.« Bobby had an answer for everything and he had probably already pulled some strings. He wouldn't be Bobby Singer had he not done so. It wasn't that their father wouldn't care that they would get an education. He did care in his own twisted way. It was just that he didn't put much thought into it most of the time. He was proud that Sam was already thriving and he was mad that Dean’s grades were so bad already. But that was the extent of his care for school matters. Bobby was different. To him, it was very important that they would visit school regularly. To Dean school was only one of his many chores, though. He struggled ever since he started it. He had a hard time focussing on the teacher or the projects. His mind tended to wander and sometimes he would just fall asleep during class. His teachers would lose patience with him or give up on him after just a few short days. That's how it had always been. He was ten years old and he was still struggling to read properly and he was afraid that this would never change. However, to his teachers, he usually was just one of those already lost cases. 

Sam was already ahead of him.

Dean continued stuffing their bags while Sam continued talking to Bobby and Dean didn't mind. That gave him time to collect his thoughts while he made sure to pack everything that belonged to them. They couldn't leave anything behind. As he was finished, Bobby took one bag from him and ushered both of them to his truck. Sam climbed in the back seat immediately and Dean joined Bobby on the passenger's seat. Suddenly, he was very aware of the way Bobby looked at his face because until now, Dean had almost avoided looking at him too much.

»What happened there, Buddy?« He asked as he fired up the engine but pointed to Dean’s left eye. The black eye his dad had given him before he had left them was already fading away but it was still there and still a source of concern from adults, no matter how superficial. 

»Nothing.« Dean immediately shrugged it off. »I got into a fight at school, that's it.« Bobby's gaze lingered on his face a little longer and he could almost feel how their uncle was fighting with the decision of either asking Dean further or letting it slide. As Dean threw a glance over to the back seat and watched how Sammy got comfortable with one of the large woolen blankets that Bobby kept in his car at all times, Bobby pulled out of the parking lot. Apparently, he wouldn't investigate further - for now. But knowing Bobby he was aware that he wouldn't just let it go like this.

Bobby had this talent to look right through his bullshit.

The road flew by in a blur and Sammy had fallen asleep in no time on the backseat, snuggled into his blanket. Dean couldn't deny that he was tired himself as midnight struck, but he refused to close his eyes and sleep anyway. He liked driving through the night. He liked looking out of the window and see nothing but empty country roads, forested areas and the occasional street lamp while the radio was on in the background quietly playing classic rock or even the news. Unlike Sammy, Dean had never had a problem with being in that car of theirs for hours on end and Bobby’s truck was no exception.

»Your Dad sounded as if there was a lot of work to do on the Impala.« Bobby quietly hummed from the driver’s seat, probably to keep himself awake during their drive. It would be a long one and Dean doubted that they would be at Bobby’s place before sunrise. »Maybe it would be best to finally give up the car and get a new one.«

Dean shot up out of his slumped position to look at Bobby as if he had just announced that he was the devil himself and going to eat Sammy. »No!« He replied affronted but lowered his voice as Sam grunted in the backseat. »No, he can’t do that! I love this car, Bobby! We have to fix the Impala! Dad promised that she would be mine one day!« 

Bobby said nothing for a moment, just turned his eyes back to the road ahead and hummed in agreement. »I see.« He said. »Well, we need to fix her then. She’s an old girl, but with a bit of love and affection she can go on for a little while longer, I suppose. I think it's about time to teach you how to fix her, then. What do you think?«

As Bobby looked over at him again, Dean could see the warm twinkle in his eyes as the headlights of a car driving in the opposite direction hit their windshield and reflected off of Bobby’s eyes. He found himself grinning stupidly. »Okay!« Dean had always loved cars and had always been interested in learning how to fix them. His dad was a mechanic and he knew that stuff and sometimes Dean imagined how it would have been had their mother never died. He would have probably spent whole afternoons with his dad lying under the Impala to fix it. Just them, father and son. Sammy had never found interest in cars. 

»Maybe we could teach you how to drive, too.« Bobby mused. »Can’t hurt, I guess.«

Dean stopped himself from reminding Bobby of his age. He was not that stupid to rid himself of a chance like this! Bobby was a patient teacher, unlike his father. Bobby had been the person who had taught him Latin too and Dean was surprisingly good at it though he always felt as if he didn't know a thing. 

»Bobby … Can you help me with my math homework when we visit that school?« He finally brought himself to ask and Bobby, with a small chuckle, reached over and ruffled through his dirty blonde hair. 

»Sure thing, kiddo.«

They arrived at the junkyard as the sun was already rising on the horizon. The building and the yard filled with mountains of old and deserted cars rose up in front of him like an image from an old dream through the fog of these early morning hours. As they drove up to the house, Dean already spotted the Impala in front of the garage and his stomach dropped a little.

Until now, he had not thought about how pissed his father probably was after his car had broken down like this. A part of him had hoped to be asleep when his dad would reach Bobby’s so that he wouldn't get in his way, but now he was already here and probably angry. He hesitated to get out of the car after Bobby had grabbed one of their bags to fling it over his shoulder before he had carefully picked up Sammy to not wake him up. 

»Dean?« Bobby’s voice pulled him out of his stupor and finally, Dean got out of the car and grabbed the second duffel bag to follow Bobby and Sam inside. It was as quiet as always as they got in and nothing yet told the tale of his enraged father. They sat the duffel bags down near the door for now. As they walked passed the kitchen door, Dean saw his father sitting at the table with a bottle of beer in his hand.

»Hey, John. I’ll get Sam to bed.« Bobby addressed John as if it would be not out of the ordinary for his dad to sit in his kitchen that early in the morning with a beer. Dean’s first impulse was to follow Bobby upstairs immediately, but then he lingered in the door for too long as Bobby was already climbing the stairs to lay down Sam in the guest bedroom where he and Dean usually stayed. There even was some of their stuff left in this room by now. 

»Heya Dean.« His father spoke as he lifted his gaze from the ground to look at him, and his voice sounded a little hoarse as he did so. It was this tone of voice that prompted Dean to slowly get closer to his father.

»Hey Dad, what's wrong?« He asked quietly before he stopped right in front of his dad. Only now, despite the darkness of these early morning hours, he could see how shitty his dad looked. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked grey and suddenly a lot older than Dean remembered him to look as he had last seen him. 

»Nothing, Dean-o.« He spoke and his voice still remained quietly and soft which only made him more uneasy. »It's just … this job, you know?«

»Did something bad happen?«

»Yeah, Dean. Something bad happened on the job.« He paused. »There was a kid, not older than you are, you know? I couldn't save him.« He sounded as if he was being choked and Dean reacted before he could think too much about it. He stepped even closer to the chair now and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. 

»It's okay, Dad.« He said quietly. »It's okay.« 

He couldn't remember the last time his father had hugged him but he did now. John bent forward and pulled him into a tight embrace for a moment. He didn't say anything to him, just sat there and held him close for the time being. There wasn't anything to say, probably and Dean enjoyed the moment. For once, he did not feel as if he was walking on eggshells around his father and a part of him even hoped that this case might have been the last one, that his dad would no longer leave them to hunt ghosts and save other people. Yes, his dad was a hero and he admired him for this, but he would rather have him at home and alive. »I was worried.« Dean quietly admitted as his father brushed his hand through his hair.

»Don't be, Dean. You know I always come back.« 

※※※※※※※

He shouldn't have left Sammy like this. He knew he shouldn't have. It was not right to run out on his son just because of a stupid little fight and yet he had done exactly that. As John stared down in his half-empty beer glass as if he would find all the answers he so desperately needed on its bottom, he had to admit that he did, in fact, feel like utter horseshit. When did he become such a shitty father anyway? Yes, it was true that he had never dared to dream of being a father in the first place all those years ago before his baby boy had been born but after the fact he had loved being a dad. He had loved this new role life had thrust upon him. He had loved Dean. Maybe he had always loved Mary more than any of his children back in the day, he wouldn't deny that. He would have carried her out of the house before taking care of his two sons had she not been dead already. A part of him felt ashamed admitting that to himself but it was the truth and there was no point in trying to act as if it had been any other way. However, he had still loved Dean to death - and Sammy too. 

Dean and he had a strong bond from the start despite the fact that his oldest had been pretty much a mama’s boy for the most part. Hell, he had been such an easy child! Dean had barely ever cried all that much as a baby. He had slept a lot, honestly - and when he had not been sleeping, he had been eating and got a little fat on those tiny bones of his. In his memory, Dean had always been tiny and to some degree, he still was. He couldn't stand seeing him in this hospital bed even because it was the one thing he had always feared the most after Mary’s death and because it reminded him of just how fragile his baby boy used to be. 

With a tired sigh, he rubbed his left hand over his face and took another swipe from his glass only to gesticulate to the bartender to refill his glass. What was the point of loving his children to death when he was still leaving them both behind like this? He was not better than his own father by any means. Of course, he had not abandoned his boys, no matter how easy it would have been to do so. Yes, he had thought about it as early as three months after his wife’s death even. He had thought about leaving those kids behind without a word to start his hunt for that demon on his own and without getting them involved after his friend, Missouri had opened his eyes. 

Even now, all those years later, he still sometimes thought about abandoning them and now, that he sat in this bar instead of being with Sammy who was probably scared to death because his brother wasn't with him and would probably even die in that hospital bed, he wondered if it might have been better had he done just that. He could have brought them to Bobby and just left. They had no other family than Bobby and him and with Bobby, they would have been save at least. He hated that those thoughts even managed to infiltrate his brain like a virus, spreading even further. He knew the day would come when he would indeed leave his boys. He knew it was inevitable. Why wouldn't he cut the cord just yet anyway? He would spare them all a lot of pain and tears. 

The way he treated Dean was not right and he was aware of that. When he would come home drunk and Sammy would be asleep just one comment from Dean, one roll of his eyes would suffice for John to flip his shit and beat the living shit out of Dean. It wasn't okay. But Dean, his perfect little soldier Dean, would never say anything. He would remain quiet and just take the beatings, take the insults, take the humiliation thrown at him. 

»I knew you would be here.« Was he surprised to hear Bobby’s voice shortly after the door to the bar opened and closed as a small group of people filed out and let a gush of cold wind inside? No. He really wasn't. And he knew why Bobby came to this bar that was so close to the hospital too before his friend could even take a seat on the barstool next to him and order a drink for himself. »Sam called me and said you left about an hour ago.« 

»Has he now.« He huffed as he rose his refilled glass to his lips to gulp down on the brown liquid. 

»John, you are my friend and I understand your situation and that you look for a way to drown your worries, but you have another boy waiting for you at some shitty fucked up motel and you cannot just leave him there in the middle of the night like this. Sam is not Dean, he doesn't know how to protect himself if something happens. And even if he did it wouldn't be right. Have you learned nothing from Dean’s accident?« 

_ Accident _ . John felt like he was going to choke on his beer because he felt the urge to laugh at this. »You know« He started instead as he put his glass down. »I used to imagine how it would be to take Dean on his first bender. Have I ever told you that?« He didn't even wait for an answer anyway. »I thought I should be the one to introduce him to alcohol so he wouldn't overdo it. I always thought that it was a father's job to do that, to take care that your son learns how to deal with stuff like that in a safe environment. I thought that Dean is probably a lightweight and won't be able to hold a drink. I even mentally prepared for patting his back when he would throw up in some alley. I always looked forward to this day and now it will probably never come. Yeah, I know I still have Sammy, but we both know that this will never happen with Sam, right? He and I … We just don't click like Dean and I.« 

For once, John was completely taken by surprise as Bobby suddenly took a hold of the collar of his leather jacket to not only pull him off the barstool but towards the door of the bar and all John could do in his intoxicated condition was to stumble after Bobby in turn. He had not expected Bobby to explode so suddenly and without a warning at him but in retrospect, he shouldn't be surprised, he assumed. Still, despite everything, he had not expected the punch that Bobby landed on his jaw as soon as they were outside of that bar and surrounded only by the cold winter night with no one around to see their exchange.

»What the hell, Bobby?« He found himself yelling in response to the punch that had sent him stumbling to his sorry drunken ass and right into the snow. He was dully aware of the shocked gasps of two women on the other side of the street who had apparently seen it. He hadn't noticed them before. His first impulse was to get back to his feet to retaliate, but even in the state he was in, John was aware that he was hardly able to get back to his feet by himself and that he was no match for the very much sober Bobby Singer right in that moment as he pressed his hand to his jaw. It hurt like hell but that was the point, he assumed. 

»If you love Dean so much you have a really funny way of showing it! Do you think I really never noticed the bruises on him?« As he looked up to his friend now, Bobby stood there fuming with anger and his hands balled into trembling fists. »You don't  _ click  _ with Dean, whatever that's supposed to mean anyway! That boy is  _ terrified  _ of you! That's why you get along so well in your eyes! Dean’s too afraid to do anything that could annoy or anger you! What do you think landed him in this situation in the first place, huh? He went after this ghost because of you, John! He wanted to make you proud! He wanted to prove to you that he was able to do what you told him he couldn't do! For once he wanted to make you proud and look how that backfired because you are too much of a tyrant to teach your son properly or to at least give him enough encouragement that he has no need to do something stupid like that in the first place!«

»I told him not to be so stupid! It's not my fault that this boy has the brains of a poodle!« Oh, he could see how those words almost got Bobby to punching him again. Yes, Bobby had always loved Dean and he had always acted like he would know what was best for the boy, overstepping his boundaries in the process. 

»That's the point, John!« Bobby yelled back at him and he seemingly didn't care for who would be able to hear them now. »That boy of yours worships the very ground you're walking on! As terrified as he is of your bad temper as much does he want to be just like his daddy! He always imitated you, John! He always tried to be like his dad and that has never changed! And you … you sit around in this rotten old bar and drink yourself stupid instead of sitting at your boy’s side and holding his hand to give him the strength he needs to pull through that fight of his! What kind of father are you? As if that wouldn't be worse enough, you leave Sam alone as well! That boy is scared witless in this motel room, John! Otherwise he wouldn't have called me! Sam is scared that his brother might die and you leave him alone to drink!« 

»I know!« John erupted as he fought his way back to his feet now and braced his badly swaying and suddenly extremely heavy body on the brick stone wall of the bar. »Fuck, Bobby, I know! I should have never had children in the first place! I always knew I would be a bad dad! I wished … I wished I would have left them with you in the beginning! They would have had it better with you.« 

Bobby’s mouth was a thin white line and his usually pale cheeks were red from anger now. He could see from Bobby’s face alone that he wanted to say something, wanted to agree with him, wanted to tell him that yes, he would have been a better father to those boys. However, instead of doing just that, Bobby’s gaze turned a lot darker again and his voice went from yelling to a dark threatening rumble like an approaching thunderstorm over the mountains ahead. »You are their father, whether you like it or not and those two boys need you. Sam needs his father now. He won't tell you and he won't show you, but this boy needs you, John. He needs you more than you can imagine in your sorry drunken head. And Dean needs you too. He needs you to be at his side, to help him pull through and God help me, if you won’t do that, if you won't be at the hospital sobered up by tomorrow morning, I will find you and kill you, John Winchester. Let me tell you one thing, John, if Dean doesn't make it and if you weren't there to comfort him, you will regret it for the rest of your miserable fucking life and I will not stand by and let you drag Sammy down that road as well.« 

As he returned to the motel on Sugar Loaf Road, it was already almost midnight and John felt like a beaten dog as he opened up the door to the room he was sharing with his sons. After his fight with Bobby, he had spent a good half hour walking back to the motel, refusing to accept his offer of letting Bobby drive him and his drunken ass home. He needed the fresh air to calm down and get his head clear again.

The room was dark, as he stepped inside and locked the door behind him without switching on the light. His eyes were good - they had to be in his business - and so he took the bag of salt that was always standing right next to the door on a small table to redo the salt line in front of the door. He wished that he wouldn't need to do that. But he had to. 

In the dim light coming from outside through the not fully closed blinds in front of the window, he could see Sam lying on the bed that the boy was usually sharing with Dean. It had to be odd for Sam to not have his brother with him. John still felt that it was odd to sleep in a bed without his wife by his side so he could get behind how Sam had to feel now. His boys were dangerously close, he sometimes thought. They were dependent of one another - at least for now, but the day would come that Sam would want to go his own way and cut the cord tying him to his brother. It would destroy Dean if that day would ever come. But his boys were not able to see how unhealthy their relationship already was and who was John to blame them for it? No. He was the one who had made it that way. And why? Because he had profited from it. Because when Dean would take care of Sammy,  _ he  _ wouldn't need to. Because when Dean had changed Sammy’s diapers,  _ he  _ wouldn't have needed to. Because when Dean had fed Sammy with a bottle,  _ he  _ wouldn't have needed to. 

As he sat down heavily on his bed, he just sat there for a moment and waited, facing the other bed. He found himself hesitating before he gently shook Sam on his shoulder to wake him up. Hell, that boy could sleep through a tornado and would wonder why the roof was missing later on. »Sam.« He said loud enough so that his boy had to hear it but as no response came he repeated his action. »Wake up, Sam.«

Sam jolted awake as if hit by an electric shock and stared at his dad through the darkness of this room. It took Sam a second to realize that his father had shaken him awake and another second for panic to settle in as he was probably trying to wrap his brain about a possible reason for why his dad would wake him in the middle of the night. He could see how his eyes flicked to the fluorescent display of the alarm clock on the bedside table between them. »What's wrong?« He immediately asked and his voice was still hoarse from sleep. »Did something happen to Dean?«

»No.« John sighed as he brushed his hand over his sleep-deprived face. It was no secret that he had hardly had a good nights rest since Dean was in the hospital. »No, nothing happened, Sam. I just … I wanted to apologize. All we do is fight, Sam. We always but heads and half the time we don't even have a reason. And I know that I am to blame for that. You are right in being angry with me, Sam. I leave you boys alone far too often. And I am sorry that I yelled at you and left you behind in this situation. We are both in fear of what might happen to Dean and we tend to lash out when we are afraid. I'm sorry that I let it get that far, Sammy.«

There was no response at first but as it came, it didn't even surprise him too much to hear his son’s disbelieve dripping from his voice. »Are you drunk?« 

Of course, Sam would never just lap up an apology like Dean would. In Sam's eyes, John had to be drunk to be able to apologize and John couldn't really blame Sam for asking that question even. Of course, his boy would ask something like this. Sam was not stupid. He could see right through him. »Yes.« John admitted. »But that does not mean that I don't mean what I just said. I am trying to be honest with you here, Sammy.« 

»You never call me Sammy.«

»I do now.« John replied and held out his hand for his son to take as Sam sat up on the bed. »I’m sorry, Sammy. I really am. I promise you I will be better from now on. I won't leave you guys alone like this anymore. I will take you along with me, I call more often, I make sure you guys stay long enough in one school to take part in a science fair or whatever it is you boys want to do. Okay? I am trying my best, from now on, Sam. I know I have not been the father you guys deserve.« Sam’s distrustful gaze remained lodged on his face for another moment before suddenly, his eleven-year-old boy just threw himself at him and John was almost not quick enough to catch him in a tight hug as he felt how Sam wrapped his limbs around him almost desperately. 

He could feel now just how much his little boy was shaking and trembling with fear and felt how Sam's tears immediately started to drip through the fabric of his flannel. Sometimes he forgot that Sam was only eleven. He was very smart for his age and acted very responsible for the most time - just like Dean. He never gave Dean enough credit. He had raised Sam good, probably much better than John would have been able to. »What if Dean dies?« Sam suddenly sobbed close to his throat and John couldn't deny the lump he felt in his throat. 

»He won't, Sammy.« He tried to reassure him softly as he caressed his back gently. »Your brother is a fighter, Sam. He will pull through that and he will come out of this stronger. We can be proud of him.« 

 

**-End of Chapter 6-**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote that chapter and found out about Sam's middle name from the research of the British Men of Letters, I wanted to give Dean one too because I find it unlikely that Sam would have one but Dean didn't. Let's be honest here, those traditions are not out on hold for one child - especially not the first - but reinstated for the next xD. So thinking about it I chose Michael and not only because he is Michael's vessel but because I see Samuel as a reference to Samael one of Lucifer's many names and since Mary said 'the angels are watching over you', I thought why not give him the name of an angel as a middle name then? And who better to befit Dean than the archangel Michael, defeater of all evil?  
> Plus, Dean Michael has a nice ring to it and adult Dean knowing what he knows now would hate it even more than as a child xD

The ringing of a phone inside the room ripped Sam straight out of the stupor he had been in. He had been fast asleep through most of the night and as he opened his eyes now, he felt blinded by the morning light that was shining through the open blinds. How late was it even? Shouldn't he already be at school? It was usually still dark when he and Dean would leave for school. A glance at the clock told him what he already suspected. It was half past nine. School had started half an hour ago. Driven by this sudden realization, Sam sprung into action before he could even fully grasp the situation he was in. His father stood by the window looking outside and his phone pressed to his ear. He had picked it up quite quickly after it started ringing for the first time today. Unlike usually, he was keeping his voice down as he spoke on the phone and that in itself gave Sam enough reason to be a little suspicious of this very phone call now. His father never kept his voice down when he was talking on the phone no matter to whom he was talking to and he never cared if one of his boys might be sleeping still either.

He could hear him answer the other person quietly and in a hushed voice as if he didn't want Sam to wake up from this. Apparently, he had not yet noticed that Sam was already wide awake and Sam would much rather keep it like this. He scooted out of the bed quickly and as quietly as possible only to inch closer to his dad without making it look like he was trying to snoop around if he would suddenly turn around perhaps. He knew that his dad hated it when Sam would be nosy.

»Listen, I can't just leave right now, okay?« He heard his father say as he was close enough to him now. John had his back turned to him and Sam had learned how to be sneaky quite early in his very young life. »Yes, I understand - but I can't come right now. I have to take care of things first.« By now, Sam was beyond curious. It did not sound like a call concerning his dad’s work, then again, who was he to say that it was or it wasn't? »That's not fair, I do what I can and you know that.« He sounded angry now and as John finally moved this time, his eyes fell upon Sam’s empty bed and Sam could immediately see him tense up. He turned around a little more and was now facing Sam directly.

Sam, of course, gave his best impression of an innocent eleven-year-old boy just casually leaning against the sofa.

»I’ll call you back.« Sam was surprised to hear that his father was indeed hanging up on that other person. He never did something like that - at least as long as a call was only concerning his work and that, of course, made everything about that conversation only more suspect in Sam’s eyes. His father was clearly hiding something from him now and he did not do a very good job. Sam was not Dean, after all. He would not lap up some bullshit excuse just like that! »Hey, Sammy.« His father addressed him after hanging up the phone and putting it down on the side table near the window. »Good morning.«

»Why didn't you wake me up? I'm late for school, Dad.«

»Yeah about that … I thought, after last night, you deserve to ditch school for the day. How about we get breakfast down at the diner instead?« This was even more suspicious than that call. It wasn't like his father never treated them to pancakes and waffles at some local diner, but usually, he did so only after a successful hunt, when he had something he wanted to celebrate. It was not like his father to spend money unnecessarily for things like this and ditching school … Well, just because he didn't care that much, did not mean that he would usually endorse ditching school.

»But the science fair starts next week and I still have a lot of things to prepare.« Sam replied not budging. Dean would have been through the roof already at the mere thought of pancakes or waffles for breakfast instead of those old _Lucky Charms_ they had to share.

»Oh, come on, Sammy. Why not enjoy this day for what it is? You can go back to school tomorrow. Besides, I already called in sick for you for today.« He brushed a hand through his black hair at this, a gesture Sam was quite familiar with from Dean. He knew that it usually meant that Dean or his dad felt uncomfortable, only their dad was much more advanced in hiding that uncomfort. »Sammy, we do far too little together and I know that. I want to make it better. And after breakfast, we can go visit Dean.«

Sam knew that there was no use in arguing with his dad now any further. His father had set his mind on having breakfast with him and he would not rest until he would have had breakfast with him. And since his dad had already called in sick for him, he might as well go along with it. »Is Bobby coming too?«

John made only a small grimace at this question before he answered. »No. He stays at the hospital until we come. He wants to give us two a bit of father and son time - and let's be honest here, Sam, we can use that time together too.« Of course, Sam was not nearly naive enough to believe that that was really all there was to it, but he was wise enough not to question his father in that regard now either.

After he got dressed and brushed his teeth, he left the motel room with his father and slowly they walked down the road to the diner that was squeezed in between a row of shops. Sam had always loved the smell inside a typical American diner of fresh bacon and eggs, and the feeling of coziness and comfort when sitting down in one of those old-school booths. The cushion of the bench he was sitting in was comfortable and soft and covered with red leather that was starting to wear off around the edges. Sam didn't mind, in fact, that worn of state of the tables and benches, of the stools and the little chips on the plates or glasses was exactly what made the charm of a diner what it was.

Still, today it felt really odd sitting down like this with his father. He couldn't recall ever being alone with his dad for more than a few minutes or hours even and now he was alone with this guy for days already. It was weird and yes, his father was right, they just didn't click like his father and Dean did or Sam and Dean. The feeling between them was always a bit off when they would be alone without Dean to act as a buffer between them. And sitting here now with his Dad, Sam couldn't help but notice how his eyes darted to the clock over the counter again and again as if he was waiting for something after they had ordered their food.

As their waitress, a plump woman with red hair and rosy cheeks returned with their order and filled his father's cup of coffee with a smile and a hum that sounded like »There you go, Sweetheart«, Sam couldn't stand it any longer. He waited just long enough for her to be out of earshot and as his father was already on his way to start digging into his food, Sam decided that enough was enough.

»Okay, Dad, what's going on here?« Sam sighed. »You are always looking at the clock. Is there anything else you have to do or why can't you keep your eyes off the clock?«

»You know, for a kid, you have quite the smart mouth on you.«

»I’m almost twelve, Dad, I'm not a baby anymore.« Sam frowned before he took the first bite of his deliciously sweet pancakes. He wished Dean would be here to enjoy them with him. Now that he really came to think about it, he hardly ever saw Dean eating. Sure, Dean was cooking dinner every night - but he cooked dinner for Sam and every time he would ask him, Dean would claim that he had already had eaten something. He didn't want to believe that his brother was a liar but slowly he started to get the feeling that Dean had lied to him every time he had said this.

Suddenly, Sam's appetite vanished just like this as the realization started to really strike him now.

»What's wrong?« John asked as he had apparently picked up on the way Sam lowered his fork again and just stared down at his pancakes for a little moment longer as if he was admiring the rosetta stone lying on his plate.

»Nothing.« He shrugged but placed his fork down on the table again.

»Something wrong with your pancakes? We can order you something else.« For now, Sam glossed over the fact that his father would never waste a perfectly fine meal just because his son would not eat pancakes anymore all of the sudden.

»I just remembered something.« Sam mumbled before he looked at his dad. »You remember Fort Douglas?« John visibly tensed as Sam dropped the name of the fort on him like that. »I just remembered it … I mean, not what happened in that night, you know? But I remember Dean cooking dinner for me. You have been gone for quite some time already and we had only a can of SpaghettiOs and not even a bowl of _Lucky Charms_ left. I told Dean I wanted the SpaghettiOs and so he cooked them for me and suddenly I decided to be an insolent brat and didn't want them anymore. So, Dean, being the good brother he was, tossed them in the garbage and gave me the last _Lucky Charms_. I didn't even consider that he had to eat something too. Dean could have forced me to eat that stuff but he didn't. He rather passed on a perfectly good meal so that I wouldn't have to go hungry.«

»He shouldn't have thrown the food in the bin. He could have eaten it himself.«

»Dad, he was nine years old.« Sam sighed. »And he was frustrated. It was not his job to keep a level head with me in this moment. He was a kid. He still is.«

»You want to say it would have been my job to be there with you guys and take care of dinner and that you have enough money and food.« John said and Sam wanted to say something else just so that this wouldn't end up in a fight again because this was the last thing he really wanted now but before he could say something, John waved dismissively at him. »No, it's okay, Sam. You are right. I was so obsessed with finding that thing that I forgot about you guys. I should have been there. And I shouldn't have been that hard on Dean afterward. Of course, he wanted to have a bit of fun and not be stuck in that room the entire time. He was nine years old … as you said.«

Suddenly, Sam felt the lump in his throat again harder than ever and how his eyes were burning as he lowered his glance at the pancakes. »I miss him.« He managed to get out but he was aware how choked up he sounded. Before he knew what happened, his father’s huge hand closed around the hand that was lying trembling next to his fork on the table.

»Me too, Sammy.« He silently admitted. »Let's be honest here, we need your brother to keep us both on track, right?« It was meant as a joke but the truth in it didn't escape Sam either. Yes, they needed Dean to keep them on track. »And when he wakes up, we’ll go have breakfast, okay? Just the three of us.« Sam wanted to throw in that it wasn't fair that Bobby would get excluded like this. He was family too, after all, and especially Dean was very close to him.

»I think we should ask Bobby too. He is family, Dad. He loves us and we love him and it wouldn't be right to exclude him.«

»Sometimes it's like you don't want to be with your old man, Sam.«

»That's not what I'm saying. It's just-«

»You know, sometimes I feel that Bobby gets involved in this family far too much.«

»Oh come on, Dad.« Sam sighed. »What do you expect? He has helped to raise us, after all, especially Dean! He had taught Dean how to read when he was struggling so badly! But you probably don't remember that, right? No, you rather yelled at  Dean instead of helping him. But Bobby did. He deserves to be a part of this family.«

Sam had never told Dean that he knew about his little problem. He had seen how his brother had struggled and he had known that Dean had been making the stories up as he had read them to Sam. He would never forget the moment that he started to read one of those stories by himself only to realize that the story was completely different from what Dean had told him. Still, it had taken a bit more time until he had realized how much his brother really struggled with school and reading in particular. He was getting better though and it wasn't as if he was dumb - not by a long shot even. He learned quite fast and usually one only had to explain something once to Dean and his brother would have understood and memorized what he had been told.

He couldn't even name the look on his father's face as he found his dad staring at him now from across the table. Was he angry? Hurt even? His face was unreadable to Sam. He needed a shave, Sam decided. His stubbles were slowly but surely growing into a beard and Sam didn't even know if his father had shaved at all ever since he came back. Only now he realized the bags under his dad's tired looking brown eyes. He looked older than before he left for this hunt in Windom. Was this really just because of Dean? Somehow Sam couldn't imagine his dad losing sleep over Dean's situation.

Maybe he was being unfair.

»Yeah … No … I get it, Sam.« His father replied and took him by surprise even more than he had done before. What the hell was wrong with his dad? »You are right. That was not fair.« Now he was sure that something was either terribly wrong or that his father might have been switched out. Was he perhaps possessed by a demon even? As his father drove his hand through his messy black hair, however, Sam got a glimpse of the father he knew and somehow, he was not even surprised about what came next. »Sam, I want to go to the hospital after we finished breakfast, okay? I have to leave later today.«

First, he was not really getting what his father was trying to say, but as it clicked, he nearly flipped his shit. »You are leaving?« He replied a little louder this time. »Why? You can't leave again! Dean’s in a coma and you want to leave us behind again?« He didn't even care that the waitress was looking at them funny.

»It's because of that vampire nest. I have to go back to Windom.« His father kept his voice down because he did not wish for anyone to hear what they were talking about, of course.

»Dad!«

»Sam, I cannot leave it like this. I have a job to do - a job that you boys got in the way of because of your grandiose decision to hunt down that fucking ghost despite me telling Dean not to be that stupid! Do you want that more innocent people die from those bloodsucking assholes just because you guys were so fucking stupid as to go against my very clear orders?«

Dean would have probably taken the blame for that but not Sam. Of course, he cared for those innocent people. Of course, he didn't want anyone to die but why had it to be their job? Why had it to be his dad's job? »Come on, Dad, you can't expect me to believe that crap! That's about you and your ego. You care more about that case than you care about Dean!«

»Don't  be childish, Sam! Of course, I would like it more to stay here and keep watch over Dean but being an adult means that you can't always do what you would like to do!«

»That's bullshit and you know that! You are a _father_ \- it's your job to be with your kids and care for us!« Now not only the waitress was looking at them funnily but a few of the other guests too. He didn't even care that people were looking at them funny. He was royally pissed and, yes, he was disappointed. However, the worst about this situation was probably that he felt so incredibly stupid now. He should have known better than to expect anything else from his father. He should have known that his father would always choose a case over his two sons no matter if his firstborn son was in a coma or dead or injured or anything. John Winchester simply did not care for them and that was the cold hard truth and this breakfast here in this diner was nothing more than the sorry attempt to make peace with his youngest son so that he would behave or maybe not flip his shit like he did now after his father had revealed to him that he would be leaving _again_.

»Sam-«

»No, you know what, Dad? It's okay.« He interrupted his father as he got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket that he had pulled off and put on the seat beside him after they had sat down for breakfast. »Really, I understand. You have a case to work. So, go and find those vampires, don't let your children hold you back. It's not like we would need you anyway.« He didn't wait for his father to respond as he stomped away from the booth. A part of him had, childishly, hoped that his father would make up his mind and follow him, hold him back and apologize maybe. But of course, it was John Winchester whom he was leaving behind like this and John Winchester had no time for crap like this. He probably thought that Sam was only overreacting and would wait for Sam to come back to him to apologize. He doubted that his father was even aware of what he was doing to his kids. Hell, Sam thought as he stepped out of the diner and pulled over his jacket and his hat, if _he_ already felt this hurt about his father's actions, then he could not even imagine what Dean was going through every time their father behaved like a total asshat towards Dean.

For a moment, he just stood there, uncertain of what he should do. His first instinct was to go back to the hospital but then, he turned in the opposite direction to head for the library.

※※※※※※※

**1993 - Louisville, Kentucky**

He didn't know what was worse, the worry gnawing on his mind, the panic rushing through his entire system or the fact that he knew how much worse it would get as soon as his dad would notice what had happened. He hadn't been supposed to leave Sam alone in the motel during his father's absence and he had known how dangerous it was outside at the moment - especially for someone as naive and innocent as Sammy. Hell, Sammy was only ten years old and he knew nothing about the reality of their father's job. He still couldn't grasp just how dangerous the world outside their door really was. As Dean waltzed back into the motel room, however, he found it discarded. His brother was gone and it did not take long for Dean to realize that not only was Sam gone, but his backpack too. It was clear to him that his brother had finally snapped and ran away. He didn't need some stupid letter explaining things to him for sure. He and Sam had the biggest fight this morning and now he was gone. Of course, he ran away! Fuck, he didn't even know anymore what their fight had been about for God’s sake! Sam had wanted to go see something that had sounded incredibly boring to Dean and, being the good brother he was, he had mocked him. That was all he still remembered of their fight and now his dad was on his way back home and Sammy wasn't here! His father would surely rip him a new one!

»Fuck!« It escaped him a lot louder than he intended to as he started rummaging through the room despite the fact that he was acutely aware that he would not find anything of use in this matter! Well, no! Maybe Sammy had left something behind that could tell Dean where he had gone. Hell, he didn't even know when his brother had left the motel and how much of a head start he had! But maybe he could find him before his dad would even know that something had happened. Whatever he would do, he needed to act quickly now! The part of town they were in was not really the safest place to be in the first place but now the day was slowly coming to an end and the real bad people would start to leave their houses soon.

Within just seconds, he had turned their room upside down and found absolutely nothing. Hell, he didn't even know if he should be proud that Sammy had taken it to heart to cover his tracks or if he should be angry - or both. He settled for both. He could handle both feelings. He would whoop Sam’s ass when he would get his hands on him the next time, that much was certain! This little imp! Dean was about to head out of the motel room again to get to the front desk and have a look at the brochures that were lying around at the front desk to look for a possible destination his baby brother had headed too, as he turned around and was faced with a very grim looking, John Winchester standing in the doorway, watching him like he was a hawk and Dean was just some little mouse on a field that he was preying upon.

He stopped dead in his tracks immediately but did his best not to show the sudden rush of panic surging through his bones. From his father's expression alone he could tell that the hunt had not gone too well. His leather jacket was ripped on his left biceps and he could almost see the gush that went right through his skin there. At least it was not a bite. »Hey, Dad, you’re back early!« Dean greeted his father with the best innocent and cocky grin he could muster right now that he was swallowing the lump in his throat. »How was the hunt? Did you beat that werewolf’s ass?«

»He got away.« Crap. His father was a sore loser that was why it was no fun to play cards with him. Then again, his father hardly ever lost or failed on a hunt and because of that every failure stuck with him all the more and hit him all the harder. Dean knew that the last thing his father would want to do now was to deal with his two sons and their drama. When he was in such a bad mood it was wise to just leave him be.  »Where is your brother?«

»Oh, just … out. Library, I guess.«

»You guess.«

Crap. Wrong answer. »I mean, I know he is at the library, Sir.« Better. Better but still not good enough, not convincing enough. However, the moment he saw his father's eyes dart about the room, Dean knew that he had fucked up royally.

»What's the mess about?«

»Oh« Dean replied and scratched his neck out of impulse. Crap. That was a mistake, a telltale sign that he was lying and his dad knew it. »I didn't get the chance to tidy up until now. I was just on my way to get Sam.«

»Don't lie to me, Dean Michael Winchester.« Yes, he had fucked up indeed. Well, at least his full name was not as shoutable as _Samuel William Winchester_. His brother had truly the perfect name to be used to its full potential when being scolded. Of course, Dean’s middle name was just as perfect to use for these matters, but it was hardly ever used against him, not even when being scolded as if his father would want to sweep it under a rug that his son indeed had a middle name. Not to mention that both he and Sammy hated their middle names with a passion. That he was using it now meant serious business. »I ask you one last time now, Dean: Where is Sam? And you better answer me quickly this time or I’ll lose my shit.«

Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip. Well, shit. Would he lie again, his father would beat him up, would he answer truthfully, his father would beat him up too. No matter what he was going to say, his father would whoop his ass no questions asked. »I don't know.« He finally admitted with a sigh.

»What do you mean ‘you don't know’?« His father asked and his voice was as low as the growl of a hungry wolf. »Might I remind you that it's your job - the only thing I ask of you - to watch out for your little brother, Dean?«

»I know, Dad, but-«

»I don't want to hear any of that shit, Dean! You knew what I expected from you and you failed! You let me down!« He slammed the motel door shut behind him now that he stepped further inside the room and closer towards Dean. Suddenly, Dean felt incredibly small facing off against his father.

»No, Dad, listen! I-«

He had seen the fist shooting towards his face and yet the punch he received surprised him as he was kicked off his feet. He was, by now, quite used to his father throwing punches at him like this and he was aware of the strength his father possessed and yet it still took him by surprise as he slammed to the ground. However, it was not so much the fact that his father had managed to knock him off his feet but that he would not stop at that. Before he knew it the first kick landed in his stomach and made him curl in on himself.

»How can anyone be that stupid?« His father shouted and his words hurt almost more like any kick really could. But that was how it had always been. His father's words stung like a thousand bees and Dean was unable to do anything against that feeling. He could deal with the beatings but his dad’s approval meant much to him. His father probably knew that too.

He felt weak when his father would insult him like this. He felt weak because he was not fighting back against him. It was not as if he would be a weakling in general. He was not weak, he could hold himself, he could fight, he could take down others, his father had taught him but against his dad, he would never stand a chance. The guy was a marine, after all. The next kick hit him hard against his back as he tried to protect his face and stomach from his father's vicious attack on him. »Are you even aware what a disappointment you really are? You never do anything I tell you! You never do what you are asked to! You can't even watch out for your little brother!« Each statement was accompanied by another kick and Dean could do nothing about it. Even if he would be strong enough to fight against his dad, he would never dare to.  He was his father after all, and Dean needed to show him some respect.

»Where have you been anyway?« His dad shouted with one last kick at his side before he finally stomped away from Dean and through the room as if he was looking for clues that Dean might have overlooked. He would probably find one too. Just to show Dean that he had not even able to put two and two together before. »I asked you a goddamn question, Dean!«

Only slowly he dared to lower his arms from his face and tried to sit up. He did not dare to show his father the pain he was in. He had to be brave. He had to work through the pain shooting through his body. As he managed to get back to his feet he was swaying badly for a second but he bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from uttering so much as a whimper. »I was with a friend from school.« Dean finally admitted although this boy was not a friend strictly speaking. That was the problem and he could never tell his father.

He liked David but they were no friends. It was the first time that Dean had noticed that he felt drawn to another boy and not a girl but David seemed special and maybe it was just David he was attracted to and not boys in general.

»You don't have friends.«

His father always knew best how to discourage Dean in every way possible and sometimes Dean wondered if he did so on purpose or if he felt joy by putting him down. »We had homework to do.« Dean tried to explain. It wasn't even a lie perse. He and David had met because of their homework - but not only because of that and now he felt guilty for ever thinking like this. He had gone out to be with some random boy and his brother had run away in the meantime. For the first time in his life, he had not listened to what Sammy had wanted to do today because his mind had been occupied with David. Fuck. He should have been here with Sammy. He should have stayed and maybe go visit whatever stupid place he had rambled on about.

»Since when do you do your homework? It would require that you have a brain.«

»I'm sorry, Dad, okay?« Dean finally erupted and that took his father by surprise as he stopped in his tracks. Almost he expected him to lash out again. »I'm sorry, I made a mistake! I was selfish, okay? What do you want me to say now? What do you want me to do about it now? We have to find Sammy! We can fight later!«

His father's lips became a very straight, very thin line at those insolent words of his oldest boy but then, he finally sighed and grabbed his gun to shove it through his belt and hide it under his jacket. »We will do that. We split up and if you find Sam, you come straight back. If you don't find him, we meet up again in two hours here.« Dean nodded and immediately went to the door before he was stopped by his father's voice once again. »And Dean - If something happened to your brother, it's your fault. I just want you to know that.« Dean bit back the comment that was threatening to leave his mouth. He only nodded, straightened his back and finally left the motel room.

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It was dark already as Sam was making his way towards the cemetery only armed with his flashlight, salt, a small can of gasoline, a shovel, and Dean’s lighter. He had never done something like this before and he did not quite know if he would be able to do what had to be done anyway. He had never done something like this before, after all! Then again, Dean had been younger than him as their dad had first started to let Dean tag along during his hunts. It couldn't be that hard anyway! He would prove that he was ready to take on that bloody ghost alone - if only to get his revenge on that thing for hurting Dean. His dad did not seem very interested in banishing that ghost. He had spent the entire day and most of the evening in the local library trying to find out more about that urban legend. He had tried his best to find out who that ghost was and where he was buried. The problem was, Sam had found three possible candidates and all of them were buried in the local cemetery. He would need to burn all of those bones, he assumed.

A part of him felt guilty already, after all, those bones had been people once and they had had families, people who had loved them. Still, he did it for Dean, someone who was still alive and someone whom _he_ loved dearly and for Dean he would desecrate as many graves as needed! Yet, Sam found himself pausing in front of the iron gates of that cemetery as he arrived. It was already almost midnight and usually, he would be in bed right now. The truth was, though, that he had a hard time finding sleep without Dean in the same room. He had thought about staying the night at the hospital but Bobby was there now and he didn't want to discuss his absence during the day or why his father was gone again. He would burn those corpses and with a little luck, maybe Dean would even wake up after that? Maybe that was really all it would take! Maybe it was like the curses in those old fairy tales Dean had told him when he had been a lot younger. He had lapped up everything Dean had told him. He had believed every single word that came out of his mouth. A part of him knew now that most of the stuff he had told him had been lies. The louder part of his brain refused to believe that, though.

He was only eleven years old, still, and he wanted to believe in his big brother. Dean was always right. He knew that this was not the truth but he wanted to believe that it was. Because if it wasn't, what would he do then? He needed something to believe in and he had chosen that this something had to be his big brother because Dean was the only constant in his messy life. No matter how much they would move from town to town, state to state, school to school, motel to motel, Dean was always there. Dean was always by his side, holding his hand, staying on guard for him, supporting him, helping him, cheering him on along the way. Really, Dean was quite the cheerleader and he had always been quite good in making Sam feel special in some way. As long as he had his big brother by his side, there was nothing he wouldn't be able to do. That was, at least, how he had always felt ever since he had been but a little boy with his big brother watching over him. One of his very first memories was Dean sitting on some moldy old carpet, his arms outstretched towards him as he had done his very first steps with the biggest grin plastered all across Dean's stupid freckled face.

It probably said a lot about their family and his life that this memory did not involve his father. Their dad had probably been on some stupid hunt as Sam had started walking.

Before he finally got moving again, Sam took one last deep breath to gather up the much-needed courage before he entered that creepy looking graveyard in the middle of the night. He couldn't quite remember if he had ever been out this late all by himself but he most certainly knew that he had never been to a cemetery in the middle of the night - especially not all by himself. Every step he took was thus something that needed courage and bravery, both things that he did not really possess. Unlike Dean. Dean had probably no problem walking across some stupid old graveyard like this as if he would do just this every night.

Well then, if Dean could do that, so could he! And when Dean would wake up again and hear this story from Sam, he would probably be quite proud too. Their dad would probably just shout at him. Then again, that was all his father ever did and the only thing he seemed to be good at. That and leaving his kids behind like ballast that was dragging him to the bottom of the ocean floor.

Maybe they would have been better off had their dad just left them and give them to Bobby instead. That way, Dean could have been a normal child at least, and he would not have needed to put Sam as his first priority at all times. Sam had never been too aware that this was exactly what his big brother was always doing before the accident. Yes, he had known or felt that Dean was doing a lot for him and that he should be grateful for having a big brother like Dean, but he had never been that aware of just how much his big brother would sacrifice willingly for him without ever whining about it or arguing that he wanted something for himself. Dean kept his head down and did what was needed to be done or what their father would ask of him and that was it.

He was tired of seeing that side of his brother.

As he was silently walking across the cemetery he was acutely aware of the sounds around him, the snapping of twigs under the weight of animals, the cawing of ravens from the trees surrounding the area. Sam was not very jumpy per se, but suddenly every little sound made him flinch and jump and shoot looks over his shoulders. cemeteries were creepy on itself anyway even during daylight but now it was outright terrifying. Maybe he had bitten off too much then he could chew.

It wasn't easy to find the first grave of one Jefferson Moore but as he did finally find it between two old trees in the far back of the cemetery, he paused again. The grave was unkempt and messy. It was quite obvious that it had not been cared for for quite some time - which was good, he supposed. The ground was hard from the frost of these late January days and the snow covering it, as he sat down his utensils and pushed down the shovel to start digging. Sam was quick to realize that not only would it take him hours to just dig up that one grave but that it would take him more strength than he even possessed. He felt devastated as this realization hit him but he tried again to push his shovel through the thick layer of earth anyway.

His work seemed futile and he was aware of that fact, yet, he was ignoring it as he kept on digging. Suddenly, a hand landed on his right shoulder and almost made his heart stop all at once. He had not heard footsteps nor any sound indicating to him that he wasn't alone any longer and as he whirled around, Sam was sure that he would look straight into the face of some police officer or guard, maybe even of the gravedigger. Instead, he was looking in Bobby’s face.

»What do you think you’re doing, Sam?« He could not even really realize what was happening as of right now. It was as if his brain had decided that it was tired of his shit and just left the building the moment this hand had landed on his shoulder like that of a ghost. Sam was beyond dumbfounded and the scare Bobby gave him still made his heart pound like mad.

He wanted to say something but he didn't know what to say. »I … I just wanted…«

»You wanted to destroy the ghost that hurt your brother.« Bobby sighed and grabbed the shovel out of Sam's hands. For the first second, he was sure that Bobby would start digging the grave up now himself because he was stronger than Sam, but he didn't. He just pointed at Sam's supplies with a serious face. »You take this stuff and then we get out of here.«

»But Bobby, I-«

»Sam, this is not the right way, okay? You don't even know what you're doing here.«

»I know enough! I know what Dean and Dad do with these things! I can do that!«

»You can't even dig that grave up, Sam.« Bobby frowned as he took the can of gasoline from the ground. »And even if you were, what if that ghost comes to attack you to protect his bones?« Yes, he had not even thought about that very real possibility and Bobby knew that just as much as _he_ knew that.

He could feel how the heat was creeping in his cheeks and he was finally thankful for the darkness around them and the cold. That way Bobby would maybe not even know how flustered Sam suddenly felt that he had not even thought about that detail that could cost his life had he decided to keep going.

»Besides, are you even sure that this is the right grave?« His voice was stern and serious and Sam started to realize that he had been about to desecrate someone's grave, someone who was probably not even that ghost he was hunting. He let his head hung as he expected a thorough scolding. Instead, Bobby put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a brief hug. »I get it, Sam.« He hummed. »You want to do something about the situation, I get that. But come on, Dean would not want you to be out here like this and neither does your dad.«

»My dad doesn't care, Bobby. This stupid vampire job is more important than we are. More than Dean’s condition.« The answer came quickly and didn't need much thought on Sam’s part now. Would his dad really care, he wouldn’t have left Dean’s side at all. Sam saw the other kids on that unit and how their parents were there with them along the way even if they just broke a leg or an arm.

»I know that it feels like this, but I assure you that your dad loves you boys. More than anything.« Bobby replied in this dark rumbling voice of his that was so familiar and warm that Sam always felt at home and comforted just hearing those vibrations of Bobby’s throat.

»He has a funny way of showing that then.«

»Be patient with your dad, Sam. He just doesn't know how to show his feelings for you guys.« It was odd that Bobby even tried to defend John, at least it was to Sam. He knew that they were friends, of course, but he was also quite aware that Bobby was one of the very few people who did not buy into John’s bullshit.

»What makes you believe that?« Sam frowned as he was not at all sold on Bobby's words.

»Because I know your father for a very long time, Son. He never got over your mother's death and he has just a hard time opening up to the both of you. Maybe he is afraid he could lose you boys too.« Bobby explained with a small sigh and this time, Sam believed him even. »And Dean … Hell, that boy certainly looks a hell lot like your mom, you know? I think your old man looks at Dean and always sees Mary - which does not make it any easier for that stubborn bastard to forget what happened.«

Sam didn't know what to say. There was so much he wanted to do and say but Bobby’s presence calmed him down enough that he finally gathered his supplies again. Suddenly, he felt incredibly dumb about all of this. What had made him think he could go through with this stupid plan in the first place? »I’m sorry, Bobby.« He sighed as he started moving again. Once more, Bobby flung his arm around Sam's shoulders to lead him back to the gate of the cemetery.

»It's alright, Sam.« He smiled. »Come on, we get rid of that stuff now and then we’ll visit Dean, okay?«

He nodded as they made their way back to the iron gates but before they could step out of that creepy little world and back into the real one again, he stopped. »How did you even know where to find me?« Sam finally asked. Of course, that question had been lingering on his mind for a while already, but only now he found it in him to ask.

Bobby, however, just laughed. »Well, I know my boys, don't I?« He just smirked. It was not an answer at all and Sam knew that. Yet, for some odd reason, it was exactly the answer he had needed. It was moments like this when Sam found himself wondering how life would have been like had Bobby been their dad.

 

**-End of Chapter 7-**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Very dark, attempted rape

Bobby was more of a father figure than his own father would ever be. That was a fact. Sometimes, Sam felt a little guilty for thinking like that but what could he do about it? It was how he felt. After all, what had his father ever done to deserve being called a father anyway? He had never been there for him or Dean and every time Sam thought that he might change, he would just get back to his old self within the blink of an eye.

Last morning, he had been sure his father had finally woken up from his stupor and that everything would turn out alright as soon as Dean would wake up again. He had honestly believed that his father would stop leaving them alone all the time, that this was the punch in the guts his father had needed to understand that his children were the most important thing in the world for him. Apparently, he was just too naive. Apparently, nothing in this world would ever get his father to truly understand these things.

He and Dean, hell, they would always take the back seat.

Sometimes, Sam just wished that his father would drop them off with Bobby for good. He didn't need to tell Bobby how he felt for him to understand. Bobby had just taken him back to the hospital, talked the nurse into letting Sam stay with his older brother and gave Sam his spot on the only comfortable chair.

Sam had spent a long time curled up in this chair looking at Dean and all he had been able to think of was that he wanted to crawl in next to him. He knew that his big brother was a very tactile person even though he usually wouldn't show it. Maybe he would get better would he feel Sam close to him? Still, holding his hand had to be enough and yet, to Sam, it felt like it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He missed his big brother and the quest for revenge on that ghost was still strong in his mind. However, he knew that Bobby was right. There was no way he would ever be able to do that alone.

»What's with that frown on your face, Sam?« He almost jumped in surprise as Bobby's familiar deep rumbling voice ripped him from his thoughts. He hadn't heard the old man walk up to the room or reach the door but as he now looked up from his brother’s face now, Bobby stood in the doorframe already with a warm smile on his face greeting Sam as if it was just some regular day in his house in Sioux Falls and not just one more day in this hospital that he would spend at his brother’s sickbed. »Well?«

»I was just thinking.« Sam explained although he was well aware that this was not enough of an answer for Bobby. His father he might have put off with an answer as vague as this but mainly because his father did not find interest in Sam’s musings under normal circumstances so why would he under these right here? Bobby, however, was a whole different thing. Some people might only see some simple-minded man with a salvage yard who was only interested in cars, guns, and beer, but Sam knew the real Bobby, who in fact was interested in these three things but was also very highly knowledgeable. Bobby was one of the most intelligent people he actually knew and he knew most certainly more about the occult than anyone else. In true fashion of this strange family, he was a part of, Bobby was truly the only member of this family who seemed to understand Sam’s thrive for knowledge - mostly.

»About what?« Yes, well, that had to have been expected, he assumed. Of course, Bobby would ask further questions.

»Dean’s birthday is tomorrow.« He found himself murmuring into his non-existing beard. Of course, that was not what was bothering him and he could tell by the way Bobby furrowed his brows and then tilted his head just slightly to the side, that he could tell that this was nothing but a white lie. Still, he apparently chose to play that game with Sam for as long as Sam wished to do just that.

»Well, what are we going to get him?« Bobby smiled as he stepped closer to the bed now. Sam wanted to say that he wanted to bake a pie with Bobby, that he wanted to go shopping for a present for Dean  with Bobby since his dad had left them again and wouldn't have been interested in getting a present for his oldest child anyway, that he wanted to use all of his pocket money for Dean to buy him something nice that was just Dean’s for once, instead, he frowned and slowly sank deeper into his chair.

»I want to destroy that ghost.«

Bobby didn't yell at him like his father would have probably done, he didn't lecture him, he didn't scold him, he just walked up to his chair and put a hand on his shoulder. »Well, you are almost twelve. As much as I would like you to never get involved in all of this, I know that I cannot keep you away from hunting forever - not with your dad around, Sam.« He took a small sigh as he squeezed Sam’s shoulder. »Your brother already hunted when he was your age. I guess it's time for you to learn it too, right? So, I’d say we go out and investigate and when we know who that ghost was, we can decide what we are going to do about it, right?«

Sam didn't want to grin as satisfied as he did in the end. He really wanted to look humble and a little embarrassed maybe, but in the end, he could feel the grin that was tugging on his mouth and making his jaw ache. His brother had always protected him. He wanted to protect Dean for once.

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**1993 - Louisville, Kentucky**

It was the undeniable and universally accepted truth that the worst of the worst when it came to people, left their houses as soon as sun would start to set on the horizon and that truth held strong for this town just as well as any other, despite the fact just how much Dean would have liked to say that it would be different. Dean had no clue how long he had been running around that place already but still, there was no sign of his baby brother. Before he had headed out like a headless chicken, he had grabbed those tourist brochures from the front desk in hopes to find something of interest for Sammy at least and that was probably more thought that his father had put into his search for his son. There was not much to see in a town like this one. Just the usual, boring tourist attractions no one really cared for.

Sam could be anywhere in this godforsaken place! And not only that but anything could have happened to him! Where the hell was he? And why wouldn't he call or leave behind a note? Sam wasn't usually like that! Of course, their fight had been quite intense this morning and he still regretted every little word he said, not only because of the pain shooting through his body with every move that reminded him of his father’s punishment for him and promised much worse to come would have anything happened to his baby brother or would Dean dare to come back without having found him.

As the time was up, Dean had still not found his little brother. He had gone to every of those tourist attractions strewn across town that would be close enough for Sammy to reach without money for the bus. Then again, he wouldn't put it past Sam, that he would have walked his way to the farthest possible location just to be away from his family and get his way. His brother was incredibly stubborn at times. Usually, Dean had no real problem with this attribute of his brother either, however, now that he was already ten years old, it had started to show at the most unsuitable times just like it had now that Sam had decided it would be a genius idea to just run away and leave his big brother hanging like a complete and utter idiot. He should kick that little gremlin’s ass for sure. Because of Sam their dad was even more angry and annoyed with Dean than usual! Because of Sam, their dad had whooped his ass quite badly! Because of Sam, he was running around that late in such a shady neighborhood all by himself!

Dean stopped at those thoughts and decided to catch a breath before returning to the motel room. It wasn’t Sam’s fault that his father had beaten him up. Sam didn't even know that his father would hit him. He could already see the motel at the end of the street and everything inside of him screamed not to go back. A part of him wondered what would happen would he not return. He could just … not go back, he assumed. He could just run away like Sammy. Do his own thing for once. Be his own person for once. Not just the big brother, not just the perfect little soldier who couldn't even follow the most basic of orders, like watching out for his baby brother.

What if something had happened to Sam? What if he needed his help? Unlike Sam, Dean knew what was lurking in the shadows. Not just monsters of all different shapes and forms, but bad people too and Dean didn't even know what was worse sometimes. They, he and his dad, had managed to raise Sammy quite sheltered, he assumed. Sam was always friendly to the people around, always believing the best of mankind, Dean, however, was always suspicious of the world around him. And why wouldn't he? His father made him watch the evening news since he had been little. How was he supposed to be still innocent and naive about mankind after watching the news all his life? Well, he was fourteen and apparently, he was a cynic already. Who would have thought.

For just a little moment, Dean decided to slip into an alleyway between two shops and lean his back against the cold stone wall. It felt good having something as sturdy pressing against his back. He felt a little more grounded and safe like this and not as if his world would come crumbling down at any minute now. For these few moments that he just leaned here against the wall and _breathed_ , he could act like Sam was okay, like his dad was not going to kill him if something bad had happened to the little guy if he would be a normal teenage boy who had gotten into an argument with his brother and dad. The thought of running away never left his mind, though. He wondered if his dad would search for him like he did for Sam. He wondered if his dad would be worried sick would he not come back home. Then again, he knew his dad and he was aware that his dad had never really cared about him. Maybe in the beginning, but that part of him had died alongside his mother, he assumed.

When he had been younger, he had not been able to see that. He had always made up excuses for his father's behavior and told himself that his daddy loved him and that he had just a hard time acting like it. All the times his dad had hit him or forgot about him, he had told himself that his dad still loved him, that he was just hurting and didn't know what to do to make the pain less painful, that he would someday realize all of this and become his old self again. But now he was fourteen years old and he started to grow aware that no, his daddy did not love him, and no, his daddy would not become his old self again. His dad couldn't care less if Dean would get run over by a car. It seemed to be different in regards to Sammy and Dean didn't know why that was. Why was Sammy so special?

Sometimes, when the nights would be especially dark, when his father would sleep in the bed next to his and Sammy’s, when Sammy would kick him in his sleep and steal their blanket, when he would just stare at the ceiling not being able to find sleep because of the pain he was in after his dad’s latest punishment for something he had done _wrong_ in his eyes, Dean would find himself hating his little brother. In those nights, it seemed that everything that had gone wrong in his life was Sam's fault and that his mother would still be alive would Sam not exist, that he would not need to sleep in dirty motel rooms and have a normal life would Sam not be around. And yes, those thoughts scared him. He loved Sammy to death and yet, sometimes, he hated his brother. Sometimes he wished Sam would have never been born.

Why was it that Dean was the one who got kicked around all the time like a broken and unloved toy? Why was he the one who had to go without food so that his brother could eat when their dad had not left them enough money? Why didn't he deserve a childhood? Was this a test, maybe? A test for what then?

However, whenever he would feel as bad as this, whenever those dark thoughts crept inside his mind, sometimes, Dean could feel that warm presence beside him in their dark motel room, as if there was something standing right next to his side of the bed, leaning against the wall or on the nightstand for support, watching over him. At times, Dean had even felt as if there had been an invisible hand brushing through his hair, resting on his shoulder. Something like that. Sometimes even something a lot heavier than this. He knew that this was nonsense, of course. Still, his mother had always assured him that the angels were watching over him. Maybe she had been right after all. Maybe there was an angel watching over him but if there was … Well, he was not doing a very good job. And yet, this thought was somewhat calming, even now.

With a sigh, he brushed his hair out of his forehead. He had to go back now. It was dark and his dad was waiting. He would only get more furious would Dean not stick to their agreement and be back on time. Running away was a nice thought, sure, but Dean knew he would never do something like that. Maybe his father didn't love him, but Dean did love his father and he did love his brother. He couldn't go on without his family by his side no matter how much he wished he could. That was just not who he was. He wasn't good in dealing with being alone. He wouldn't get far anyway, he assumed. Pretty boys like him were easy prey for the worst of mankind. Plus, where would he go anyway?

No, as long as he would be alive, he would follow his dad around, he assumed, watching over little Sammy, acting the part when he had to. That was his life and no matter how much it sometimes sucked, there was really nothing he could do. But it was not just this, as he was aware of. He had packed up his stuff before to leave and every time he had stopped, frozen in fear because if he would be gone … there was nothing that would stop his dad from beating Sam instead. As long as Dean was there, his father wouldn't hurt him. And maybe that was even more fucked up because, yes, despite the beatings, despite the insults, despite being mocked and thrown down and humiliated, he _loved_ his father. He looked up to him and yet he was afraid of ever _becoming_ him.

As he looked down at his wristwatch, a gift from Bobby, he noticed that it was already ten past nine PM. He was already ten minutes late and the night hung low about the town. His father was probably pacing through the motel room, fuming with anger because Dean was late. _You could just go and spend the night somewhere else_ , a tiny voice pleaded inside his head but Dean knew that he would just make things worse now. Every minute he would waste meant one punch more. At least his father was avoiding his face for the most part. He would hate to explain a black eye or bloody nose to Sammy.

So, Dean straightened his shoulders and started moving again. He would go back now and he would not show his father how afraid he really was of him. That was at least the plan. Just as Dean was about to step out of that alley, there was a sudden sensation of pain shooting through his head and as he swayed from the impact, Dean needed the fraction of a second to realize that he had been hit in the head - hard. He wanted to scream out, but before he could, he felt his body collapse to the ground and the world around him turning a solid black.

He didn't know how long he had been out of the game as he slowly started to come back to it later. There was no way of telling how long it had been too. The first thing he realized as his brain slowly started working again like a computer that was booting up its system, was the pain on the back of his head where he had been hit. The realization that the pain stemmed from an injury, however, was only the next part of the booting process. Everything came back only very slowly. Sensations, thoughts, smells, sight. He felt like his head was a gigantic warehouse and after he had switched on the lights, the lamps around the building would not go on all at once but slowly one after another, illuminating department after department, aisle after aisle.

He felt something tugging on him and a grunt left his throat. He could hear a groan somewhere in the world around him as his eyelids started to flutter open. He quickly regretted that decision as the world was just a blur and white-hot pain so he pressed them shut again and waited for the lights to fully turn on inside his head. The tugging sensation only grew and he became aware of the hands grabbing onto him. Something was wrong about that very feeling. Something about the spots those hands were on. He couldn't quite place it, though. Another lightbulb turned on in his head and as he opened his eyes this time and saw a face hovering above his own, he started to get what was wrong. With a flash, the lights turned on in his head at once, prompting the alarm system to start blaring inside his head, and Dean started struggling before he could even realize it.

Everything that had been a blur until now became clear to him at once. His pants were down and so were his boxers. He felt the cold hard ground press against his ass as he was lying on the ground in that dirty rotten alleyway between garbage bins and discarded waste. He felt the cold breeze on his skin, his legs, his groin, his exposed stomach as he was lying half naked like this out for everyone to see and panic flooded his brain as he started to fully feel the weight on top of him. He could see the face of his attacker and yet it was as if he had none. He could clearly see every detail of it as it was way too close now that he tried to hold Dean down, one thick hand wrapped tightly around Dean's thin throat, the other venturing down-down-down, and yet he wasn't able to describe it or take it in as if there was something preventing him from seeing this man’s face.

»Let go of me!« Dean screamed on top of his lungs as he kept struggling, kept fighting, tried to buck him off and yet he could hardly hear his own voice. He would not let himself get raped by some asshole out here! He would not be one of those victims he had heard about on the news! They would not find him naked, broken and humiliated between the garbage of strangers! As long as there was life left in his body, as broken as it might be, he would not let that happen to himself! And yet, despite that he screamed, there was no sound coming from him, only a gurgled noise as he was choked. The world started to get blurry again and he could see the blackness return as blotches in the corners of his eyes as he grew more and more aware of the feeling how the man was touching his body in all the wrong ways with his free hand. Hell, he was glad, that he couldn't see much or move his head.

Dean was clawing at the man by now, his short nails digging into his flesh as he was trying to get his hand off his throat. He heard him curse but the pain Dean was able to give him seemed not to impress him much. If anything, it made him more eager to follow through with his plan. Before Dean knew it, the hand on his throat was gone but only to land a nasty punch right on his face. The second time today, as his brain helpfully supplied - and it wouldn't be the last as the man had apparently decided to beat him to death instead of choking him. There was nothing he could do about it either. Still, Dean's body reacted on his own. His hands shot forward and started scratching at the man's face, aiming for his eyes, trying to get him off so that he could flee. It was all in vain. The man was Goliath and he was David but unlike David, he did not possess a sling.

There was a loud scream in the world around him as it started to turn dark again and the weight was lifted off of him. It felt as if there had never been something on top of him in the first place. He only dimly realized that the man was no longer there and all he could do was to curl in on himself and trying to breathe. The world could wait. He needed to breathe. However, every lungful of air was hurting like a bitch, burning in his lungs like liquid fire.

A part of him was sure that he would find his father when he would open his eyes now, that John had found and rescued him but as he did, there was nothing there. His attacker was just gone and he was lying half naked on the ground. It was dark and he couldn't see a thing as he started to collect himself again. With shaking fingers he pulled up his boxers and pants but as he wanted to get up, he couldn't do it. His legs were not complying any longer. One of his shoes was missing. Odd. Dean just sat there for a moment, after he had slowly crawled into the deepest shadows of this alley to rest his back against the stone wall again, his knees pulled up tightly to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He didn't know what to do. Suddenly, his throat was all tied up. He couldn't speak. He couldn't scream. He couldn't cry. He couldn't move. He knew he had to go back but he couldn't move. What if that man would come back? _What just happened?_

Suddenly, he felt a hand resting on his left shoulder and only then he grew aware of how badly his shoulder was hurting. However, as he looked, there was no one. »It's you.« Dean heard himself say but he didn't recognize his own hoarse and thin voice. »You saved me.« Of course, there was no response, just dead silence and the lingering presence beside him. It almost felt like it was sitting right next to him, one arm around Dean's shaking shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. »Mom?« The thought was dumb and Dean knew that, still, it was the child inside of him hoping that his mom was still watching over him from beyond the grave. Even if it was her, there was no response. The presence just stayed with him, calming him, making his racing thoughts go quiet until he was able to move again.

He didn't even know how long it had taken him, though. However, as he was finally able to get back to his feet, his knees felt wobbly and shaking and his entire body hurt. He didn't know what that man had done to him as he had been passed out - and he didn't want to know either. As he was making his way out of the alley, he was aware how bad he must be looking, how disheveled he was and that he was missing a shoe still. He didn't care though. People tended to overlook everything unpleasant anyway and the presence followed him. Just as he reached the end of the alleyway, his foot got caught on something and a rush of panic ran through his body once more. A flash of light from a passing car illuminated the end of the alley for just a second and Dean could see the face of his attacker once more. He was resting against the wall, sitting on the ground between two overflowing garbage cans. His head rested against the wall, his mouth hung wide open, his pants were down and exposed his groin. The worst about all of this, however, was his eyes. The man was dead. Even in that short second of him being able to look at the man, Dean realized that he was dead. And he didn't know if it was that fact or being confronted with his attacker a second time, but Dean started running.

He ran out of the alley and down the road, passing by curious-looking people and shops and stopped not once until he reached the motel. Only as he stopped in front of the door and saw the light shining through the windows indicating that someone was inside, Dean froze again. His dad was surely pissed. How much was he too late anyway? A glance at his watch told him that it was broken. The glass was shattered and the hands had stopped at half-past nine. By now it had to be at least ten PM. One hour. He was one hour late. His father would break every bone in his body.

He felt as if the minutes were ticking by as he just stood there and stared at the closed door. What should he tell his dad? How should he explain his injuries to him? He couldn't explain them! And even if he would … he could not expect sympathy from his father! He would kill him. Dean could feel the lump in his throat grow bigger again and his eyes burning at the mere thought, but then, he could feel the hand on the small of his back. This time he didn't turn around to look for someone. He knew who it was and he found himself resting against that presence.

Suddenly, there were footsteps on the other side of that door and only now he grew aware of the voices coming from inside the room. His dad was not alone. »You stay here!« He heard his father yell at someone. »And be sure that we are not done with this yet. I’ll go and look for your-« As the door was ripped open, Dean was faced with his father, his face a mask of complete and utter anger as he stopped mid-sentence. Dean could see how his father's face fell as he stared at him with wide eyes and Dean just dropped his eyes to the floor because he was aware just how mad his father was and how big of a fuck up he really was.

»Dad, what is it?« Sam's voice came from the back of the room and Dean felt his stomach turn. He could feel how his face turned green even.

»Sam, go to bed.« His father suddenly answered his little brother with a firm voice but Sam would not be Sam would he do what he was being told to do.

»But, Dad-«

» _Now_ , Sam!« This time there was only a little grumble as a response and yet his father stayed where he was, blocking the door for Dean, his eyes lingering on Dean's face although Dean was looking away. Surely, he would not let him in. He would make him sleep outside again. Just for showing him to not be late ever again. Dean just bit his lip at this thought. A moment, almost an entire lifetime, passed like this before there was movement again. He heard Sam rustle with the bedsheets and only then, his father moved. Dean expected a punch, instead, his father grabbed his shoulder, the injured one, and led him inside, closing the door behind Dean and locking it.

Before Dean could say anything, however, John pulled him towards the bathroom and stepped inside with him, locking the door behind them. To keep him inside, Dean mused. A new punishment? Well, his dad didn't want Sam to see how he was punishing Dean, probably. His dad didn't say a thing after they were inside the bathroom, though. He let go of Dean and stepped around him and before Dean knew it, he heard the sound of the water in their bathtub being turned on. This was the worst about that motel. They didn't have a proper shower. They only had an old timely bathtub. Dean didn't dare to say anything and he didn't know if he could say something either. He just stood there on wobbly legs and watched how his father was preparing a bath for someone. Maybe he was going to drown him and make it look like an accident.

His father was avoiding to look at him too. Yes, he would definitely kill Dean tonight.

Only as the tub was almost filled, John turned around again and stepped closer towards Dean. His first instinct was to flinch away as his father grabbed for his jacket and started undressing him without a word, slowly, almost carefully, getting him out of his jacket. However, his dad would have none of this. His jacket fell to the floor and his trusty flannel and undershirt were soon to follow. Dean wasn't even able to process any of this. His father wouldn't look at him, just focus on what he was doing, as he was guiding Dean towards the tub, making him sit down on the edge. It took him a moment longer to realized that his father was not undressing him because he wanted to hurt him but because he was aware that Dean wasn't able to do it himself. Until now, he had not even realized that he wouldn't be able to undress on his own and as he stared down at his hands now, after his father had removed his boxer shorts and socks, Dean noticed that his fingertips were bloodied, his nails broken badly in various places from scratching his attacker as hard as he could.

Without a word, his dad turned off the water and helped Dean into the tub and still, he waited for the moment his dad would push his head under water. It didn't happen, though. Dean just sat in the water as his father began cleaning off the dirt from his face with a sponge. A part of him wanted to feel utterly embarrassed that his father saw him naked like this, but there was still reason inside his mind. Hell, as if his dad would care for his nudity. His father had changed his diapers back in the day as their life had still been perfect. He didn't care. All he saw was his son who needed his help. »What happened?« His father finally found his voice again and Dean could hear the tremble on it. He was pissed. Royally. And Dean knew what he was asking without asking it.

»I wasn't-« He began but his voice broke off before he could finish the sentence. He could hardly speak. His throat just hurt like hell. »I wasn't-« He couldn't say the word. That was it. He just couldn't get it over his lips. »He didn't- Someone came. Someone helped me.«

Dean grew aware how carefully his father's fingers were driving over his scalp and through his hair as he out just a tiny bit of shampoo on Dean's head, mindful of his injury. It reminded him of how his father had washed Sammy’s hair when he had been a baby as if Sammy had been the most fragile and tiny thing in the world, although Sam had been quite the big and chubby baby from the start. His face was set, though, his expression stone hard and unreadable, his lips a thin line. »Someone?« His father finally asked and still refused to look Dean in the eyes, focused only on washing Dean's hair. »Who?«

»I didn't … I couldn't see him.« Dean replied quietly.

»Him?« Him, yes. He had never quite thought about it. Yes, a part of him had believed it was his mother - or rather a part of him had wanted to believe it. Still, he thought, he had always known that this thing, this presence that was following him around since he was little, was a him. Somehow he had known it and somehow he could articulate it now. It was almost as if the presence was whispering to him. He wished he would tell Dean his name for once. There was something. Dean could almost hear it but not really hear it. _Shield of God_ , that was all that was shooting through his brain as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

»My…« He stopped himself from saying it but then he did it anyway. »The angel.«

»Angel?«

»The angel that's watching over me.«

His father stopped his work for just a moment to stare at Dean and Dean could feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment even before his father could say what Dean knew he would say. »There is no such thing as angels, Dean.« Although his hands were soft as he was cleaning him up, his words were harsh. The truth was, Dean was afraid to argue back to his dad. Maybe he was right, after all. Why should there be angels? And why the hell would there be an angel watching over him but never doing anything? No, his dad was probably right. There was no such thing as angels. In a world ruled by monsters, how could there be something like that? In the past, Dean had believed that there had to be an opposing force to all that evil and yet he started to realize that his father was completely right. There just wasn't.

Only as he felt his father’s hand on his right cheek, Dean was ripped from his thought again. His father only turned his face towards him so that Dean would look at him for once and Dean did, even if only reluctantly. »You are strong, Dean, okay?« His father suddenly said with such sincerity that Dean almost believed it but his dark eyes were still impossible to read. »And because you are strong you don't need a guardian angel to look after you, right? And you don't need no imaginary friend either. You are strong and you will get over what happened tonight.« He let go of Dean's face but only to press the sponge into Dean's empty hands. »I think of something to tell Sam - for your injuries.« Yes, Sammy would ask a lot of questions and his dad was usually good in lying to him. »But you have to man up, okay? As soon as you leave this bathroom tonight, you have to man up and get over it. You can't go back and change anything about what happened now anyway. You can only move forward from here and make sure this doesn't happen again.«

As his father got up from the ground now to rise back to his feet, Dean felt emptier than he should. Of course, what had he expected from his dad? Had he thought his dad would hug him and whisper encouraging words to him? No. To him, all that mattered was that the worst had not happened and not what the assault as a whole had done to Dean. Why would he care anyway? »You learned a valuable lesson tonight, Dean.« His father finally began as he brushed a hand through his black hair. »A lesson that will make a good hunter out of you. The real danger are not the monsters we hunt, Dean. People. People are the real danger, the real monsters. You know, I always thought monsters were easy to understand, they have a clear modus operandi - people, however … Man, people are just batshit crazy. You learned that tonight, Dean. From now on you will be smart about it, I have no doubt about that.« There was a sigh leaving his father's throat as he walked to the door and unlocked it. »But hell, if I will ever get my hands on that faggot I will rip him apart. Another thing you learned tonight, Dean. Those people that are crying for equal rights and all that shit, they are the worst monsters. You saw that tonight.«

He bit his tongue and forced himself to nod. Well, hearing those words from his father wasn't exactly a surprise. He knew his father's opinion in these matters. Before his father opened the door, however, he stopped again and turned to Dean. »Wash up, Dean and then go to bed. I think it would be best if you would sleep in my bed tonight. Sam moves too much, he’ll hurt you.« This was all the concern he would ever get from his father and as John left him in the bathroom, Dean just pulled his knees to his chest like he had in that alley. There was no calming presence beside him this time, no warm hand on his shoulder. Angels didn't exist. He was alone. That was not new, of course. He was always alone because no one ever asked about him. No one cared. So, Dean decided as he finally started washing the rest of his battered and bruised body, if no one cared about him, then why should he? There was nothing in his life to care about other than Sam, after all. He was not precious in any way and there was no great future for him. He was Sam's brother and that was all there was to him. That was his role in life.

After he left the bathroom, Dean hurriedly changed into his pajamas and paused as he looked at the two queen size bed in the dim light coming from the parking lot.  As a child, he would have done anything to sleep in dad’s bed when he hadn't been feeling too good but now? With a sigh, Dean grabbed one of the woolen blankets from the cupboard and walked towards the sofa. His whole body was aching as he laid down on the smelly, dirty sofa, but it was better than sleeping in a bed with his dad or Sammy.

As he closed his eyes this time, all he wanted to do was forget and sleep, but behind closed lids, all he could see was this man’s face and his burned-out eyes like gaping black holes staring right back at him.

※※※※※※※

John arrived in Windom in the early afternoon. The call from Kate had been a surprise, to say the least. She only ever called when something happened that she thought John would want to know. She had called him after Adam had said his first word. Of course, unsurprisingly, Adam’s first word had been Mom - just like Dean’s. He couldn't expect any of his kids to have him as their first word, he thought, not when he was never around. She had called him as Adam had started walking too and after Adam’s first day at preschool. Kate didn't know about his two older boys and, really, John liked it that way. He didn't want her to ask about them and he didn't want her to try and have a family meet up. She was a very family oriented person and a true peacemaker.

She would want to tell Adam and have the three brothers meet. However, that was exactly the one thing John didn't want. He liked having his families separated like this. Adam was the family he went to when he wanted to be just a normal dad who went to baseball matches with his son or played catch in the yard. And he didn't want to have his older boys see that because this was something they never had and John was aware that this was true and he was also very aware that this was something, neither Dean or Sam would ever get to experience either.

And if they would ever know … Well, Dean would probably just make a fist in his pocket and try to play it cool but Sam would be angry. The boy was only eleven years old, after all, he was allowed to be angry in a situation like that.

Usually, it was John who would call her whenever he was in Minnesota so that he would be able to drop by for the weekend. His boys he would tell that there was a case nearby and usually that was not even a lie. Only that he would detour from his original goal to drop by at Windom he did not tell them. The call from Kate this morning had truly taken him off-guard. Of course, he didn't want to leave Dean behind in this situation he was in but Kate had called him because Adam too had had an accident and needed medical attention and asked specifically if his father would come. Hell, what was he supposed to say? _No, my oldest son lies in a coma_? If he wanted to keep his two older boys a secret, he had to go to Adam now, he assumed. Still, as he had been driving back to Windom, his thoughts had only circled around Dean and how he was, just like before as he had left Windom to return to his boys. What if Dean's condition would worsen during his absence? What if he would die? What if he would wake up and he wasn't there? Maybe that would be worse.

He arrived at the county hospital of Windom around one PM and parked the Impala in a much more crowded parking lot than the one in Winona a few nights ago. Finding Kate wasn't too hard either. After he entered the hospital, he found Kate in the waiting area of the ER, standing at the front desk and talking to the nurses. Of course, being a nurse herself in this very hospital had its benefits. And really, it was weird being here again. After all, this was the place where it had all begun six years ago. John had come to this hospital wounded after a hunt gone wrong six years ago and Kate had been the nurse on duty treating him. He wanted to say that he had fallen in love with her right then and there, but the truth was that she had been just a fling, just one of many, to be honest. Maybe she had wanted more. He couldn't say it. Then again, as she turned around after he stepped closer, her face lit up and she greeted him with a hug.

»I'm glad you’re here.« She smiled at him warmly. »Adam is still in the OR.«

»What happened?« John finally asked. She hadn't wanted to tell him before and by now he was slowly getting frustrated.

»He broke his leg - quite badly actually. Wouldn't stop screaming and crying and asking me to call you as we got here.«

A broken leg. That was the emergency that made Kate call him here. A fucking broken leg while Dean was lying in a coma and battling with death. He had left Dean for a broken leg. Of course, Kate couldn't have known that and yet John had a hard time playing down his anger as he leaned against the front desk exhausted. »Are you kidding me…« He sighed and grew very aware of the affronted looks of the other nurses very quickly. »You called me because he broke his leg? I told you that I couldn't come and you demanded me to come anyway. You told me that you needed me, that Adam’s _life_ is in danger and all that for a broken leg?« At least he managed to keep his voice down, even though it sounded a little more threateningly and angry like this.

Kate put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. In front of her colleagues, she wouldn't want to lose her ground in the face of Adam’s dad, of course. »He is your _son,_   John.« She reminded him in a tone that reminded John of why this would always remain a fling of the past. »Your child. Your only child. If I call you and say that I need you, you get your ass here, otherwise, you can stay away forever.«

»No, he isn't.« The words escaped him in a quiet little hiss before he could even process them. They just slipped over his tongue and immediately he wanted to punch himself in the face. Maybe that was the last remaining decent part of his personality speaking up.

»What?« Kate replied in a shrill voice before she poked her right index finger into his chest as if he had personally attacked her. Only her next words made it a little clearer to him what she had thought he meant. »Of course, he is your son! Don't you dare call me a-«

»Yes, but he isn't my only son.« John finally erupted as he took a step back. This, finally, made Kate stop her little attack on him as she stared at him wide-eyed and her mouth hanging open. »I have to other boys. _Two_ , Kate. And one of them needs me right now - and not because he has a fucking broken leg, okay?«

There was a part of him that wanted to storm out of that hospital and leave her behind without another explanation but as fate had it, it was right in that moment, that a doctor came towards the desk to demand Kate's attention. »Adam is out of the OR now.« The grey-haired doctor told Kate with a calming hand on her shoulder and a soft smile that was indicator enough to John that this elderly doctor knew Kate for a long time already and probably valued her greatly. »Everything went fine. He’ll wake up within the next hour.«

He left just as swiftly as he came with just a curt nod to John who was still fuming. »Can I see him at least now that I am here anyway?« He growled under his breath. He didn't want to have made the drive for nothing. He didn't want to have left Dean in this situation just to leave without having accomplished anything at all. Kate wanted to say something but this time John cut her off. »We can talk later about that, Kate. Now, I want to show Adam that I came for him, at least and then I have to return to my boys.«

 

**-End of Chapter 8-**


	9. Chapter 9

Research was more work than he would have expected. Then again, he should have probably known that from the start from working on school projects. Although, he had to admit that working on this kind of research was a bit more exhausting than the research he would do for school. After all, finding out about who might be the ghost in that barn was not something that he could take from some random book or news article just so easily. He didn't even know from which period that man had been. He had had hardly enough time to look at that ghost as he had attacked them and yet, one odd thing had remained ingrained in his brain. That ghost, that man, had not attacked him. He had attacked Dean and only Dean. Well, of course, Sam had thrown that iron bar at him before he had been able to attack him as well but maybe he wouldn't have done so anyway? Maybe that was the clue they needed. Maybe there was a reason why the ghost had not reappeared to come after Sam.

Thankfully, Bobby had a lot more experience in this field than he had and he was eager to teach Sam what he needed to know about the research in this field.

They spend hours and hours at the local library, filing through books and newspapers to get a grasp of the history of this town. It was tiring but Sam was eager to learn anything that could help him get back to that ghost and show him not to fuck with his brother. Dean was not the only one who liked to protect the ones he loved! Sam was now just as eager to do just that even if it meant killing a ghost.

However, as the night began to approach and their time inside the library started to thin out, Sam almost lost all hope that they would find out what they needed. That was until Bobby finally returned from his corner of the library with a print out from an old newspaper. »I might have found our guy, Sam.« He grinned as he put the print out down in front of Sam and right onto the book he had been filing through.

»James L. Thompson.« Bobby explained as he put down his finger on the photograph that was highlighted on the page. It showed a man with a farmer’s hat in front of the very barn they had explored even though the barn looked much better and new in that photo. »He was lynched by a local mob. They accused him of killing not only three girls from town but also his own young daughter. He was found hung in his barn a few days later by the local police. The culprits were never caught even though everyone knew who had done that.«

»And did he?« Sam finally asked as he looked at the photograph from the early thirties.

»What?«

»Kill those kids?«

»That's the point. He didn't.« Bobby sighed. »It was later discovered that a group of three teenage boys had committed the crimes. Thompson figured it out and as he wanted to tell the police, those very boys instigated the lynch mob. Thompson was a weird guy, apparently. On that farm, it had been only him and his daughter after he had lost his wife to TB. No one in town liked him and so, they were all just too eager to believe those teens instead.«

»I would be angry too if I would be him.« Sam frowned quietly. »That explains why he attacked Dean and not me. He is out for revenge on those teenagers. He isn't a bad guy.«

»He _wasn't_ a bad guy, Sammy. But now he needs to be destroyed. Ghosts like him are dangerous and we, as hunters, have to protect people from things like him.«

Sam wasn't too happy about that decision now that he knew that man’s story, but still, he had hurt Dean and for that, he would punish that ghost. And Bobby was right, wasn't he? Things like that ghost needed to be punished. They left the library shortly after that to venture back to the hospital after they had grabbed a bite to eat. Of course, Sam was eager to get back to Dean’s side but as he thought about it, he felt sad just as much as he was excited to get back. He would have loved to tell Dean everything he had found out and yet he couldn't because Dean was not really there. He was just an empty shell at the moment. There was no reaction when he would tell him something fascinating, no little grin or mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

»I miss Dean.« Sam finally admitted with a sigh as they walked down the white corridor together towards Dean's room.

»I know, Sam. We all do.« Bobby’s voice was soft as he ruffled through Sam’s hair. Tomorrow was Dean’s birthday and tomorrow was only a few hours away. They had browsed through one or two stores to look for something Dean might enjoy but in the end, they hadn't really found anything. Dean would probably say that was because he didn't need anything anyway. He was like this. Always humble. Sometimes, Sam hated that the most about his big brother. Just once he wanted to hear Dean say that he really wanted something. Even if it would be something ridiculous.

»I wish we could get him a pet or something.« Sam finally sighed. He had always wanted a dog but, of course, there was no way that he would ever have one and neither would Dean. »I think he would love to have a dog.« Projection much? Then again, Dean _would_ probably love to have a dog. A big one like a German Shepherd or even better a wolf-dog or a Husky. A companion besides just his little brother. Maybe one day.

»Maybe one day when you guys get to settle down.« Bobby smirked.

»Yeah, maybe.« Sam sighed as they turned the next corner to enter the corridor Dean’s room was on. It was only now that he heard the ruckus further down the hallway, the machines going off and the hectic voices in one of the rooms. It was Bobby who realized what this was all about first and it was Bobby who started running before Sam even understood what was happening. »Bobby?« Sam managed to get out but he hardly recognized his own voice anymore so quiet it was. »What's wrong?« But Bobby was already at the end of the hallway where Dean’s room was.  

As Sam finally followed him, he was hardly even able to lift his feet off the ground as if he was suddenly walking through quicksand and the ground was desperate to eat him alive or keep him from seeing his big brother. As he reached the door, Bobby wasn't quick enough to catch him and prohibit him from seeing what was going on. In that short moment, as Sam reached the door until Bobby suddenly grabbed him to pull him away from that door, all Sam saw was how his big brother’s body was writing on the bed in a fit of spasmic attacks while the doctor and nurses around him were in a complete frenzy.

※※※※※※※

**1994 - Chicago, Illinois**

He didn't know when he had first noticed it. He wished that he would be able to pinpoint the moment to the exact second when he had first noticed that he liked boys too. There was not a single moment when he had decided that he liked girls either, he guessed. He had always liked them, always been quite the flirt, even in preschool already. He had always been a ladies man, as his father had put it and ever since he had hit puberty that had only become clearer by the day. He had the looks for it, apparently. He had this bad boy charm, a sense of mysteriousness. Of course, he just turned fifteen and he had never had a real girlfriend, honestly. He had had flings already, girls he had made out with on stupid parties or inside supply closets. That was the one good thing of him always having to change schools. When he would arrive at a new school, the girls would be interested in him because he was new, then there were always a few that thought there was something good inside of him, that they could change him, _tame the wolf_ , and then when they would learn that this was simply not the case and that Dean had not cared for any of them in the slightest, he would be gone again.

Why he had started doing that, he did not know. It just happened. It evolved organically. The girls started to notice him, he started to notice them and then it just happened. He was a teenager, after all.

With boys it was different. He had always been able to admit when a guy looked good but he had thought that this was normal. He had been quick to learn that other boys his age thought quite differently about that. That something was seriously wrong with him, he had understood last year when he had met David. Well, maybe he could pinpoint the moment he started to realize he liked boys too after all. It was the first time, David had kissed him which had led to the worst day and night of Dean's entire life.

Still, in that moment, Dean had liked it.

They had left town within a few days after that and he had lost all contact with David, of course. Ever since that happened, he had not dared to get close to another boy again. The attack that had followed that night had been on his mind ever since and it had taken him long, way too long, to understand what had happened, to grasp what could have happened and to recognize that it hadn't been his fault, even though his father had reminded him regularly that this wouldn't have happened had Dean not left Sam alone. He had been tortured with nightmares for months, hardly slept through the nights. He had been abhorred by himself and his desires after what this man had almost done to him. After all, his father had liked to remind him that all gay men were predators and thus there was no way he could be gay.

So, he had done what everyone would do in a situation like this. He had thrown himself into the arms of every girl that came his way and dared to smile at him. He had been desperate to prove to himself that he was not like that, that he was normal despite everything that had happened.

And now, one year later, he had been certain that David had been a one-time thing, that he had not been drawn to David because he was a guy but because of his character. And then came Jayden. He was on the same basketball team as Dean in school. This time they would stay a lot longer in this particular school as his father had promised. He had urged him to join that team and so Dean had. He had done everything to appear normal. His father had even rented an apartment this time. The case he was working on was just so complicated.

First, Dean hadn't enjoyed it at all and tried to play cool as usual, but Jayden was the one who had washed his head quite thoroughly after a few weeks of Dean being a member of the team. Needless to say, Dean was not a team player. Whatever Jayden first thought of him, apparently he had seen something in Dean. They had become fast friends within no time and for the first time ever since his mother had died, Dean had almost felt normal. Sammy had thrived in this school too. He had found friends of his own, joined the chess club, became involved in other school activities. Hell, the little garden gnome even tried out Dungeons and Dragons with his new nerdy friends. It hadn't been easy seeing Sam having other people he liked after it had been just them against the rest of the world for the longest time and yet, Dean had Jayden and he had quite liked that.

They had started hanging out after school outside or at Jayden’s house. Never at Dean’s place. And Dean had been too quick to realize that there was something more between them. It had started with looks that were a bit deeper than those of two buddies who hardly knew each other. Looks of understanding and compassion.

Had Jayden known that Dean’s dad used to beat him, he had never said anything. Then again, the beatings had grown less and less frequent by this time. As long as he would not give his father a reason to do so, he wouldn't lay a hand on Dean. Simple as that. Dean had just to make sure that dinner was cooked when his dad would come back home after his part-time job at a local car repair shop, and that the apartment was clean and tidy, the laundry made and everything in order. No big deal.

That was what he had told Jayden as well and apparently, that had led to their first kiss a few weeks ago. Of course, Dean had been terrified and tried to stay away from Jayden after that for at least a week until the other boy had cornered him and apologized and that was when Dean had realized that he didn't want Jayden to apologize.

Dean had never told anyone about that incident a year ago and that was exactly how he was going to keep it and yet, he had allowed this thing with Jayden to continue. It had started out innocently enough, just a few kisses here and there when no one had been able to see them. Dean had been the one who had started this all of again after he had retreated into his shell at first. It had been born out of a moment of pure joy after they had won a basketball match against their rivaling school. It had been quick as no one had been around that Dean had pulled Jayden behind one of the lockers to kiss him, grabbing onto the collar of his jersey and savoring that moment of utter bliss. To this day, he didn't quite know if they were dating officially. They were just friends who hung out and … well, kissed, he assumed.

To him, that was okay. He didn't want to give this thing between them a name because that would make it more real, perhaps. He liked Jayden. He really did. He was a cool guy, he was smart, he was a charmer, he was athletic, he liked to help others. He was what Dean wanted to be and, honestly, Dean didn't even know why Jayden liked him. He wasn't going to ask him either. He knew what girls liked about him. But boys? Well, maybe his looks were all that really counted in the end? At least that was what his dad would tell him.

»I’ll never be able to understand that crap, Jay!« Dean frowned as he threw his math book across the bed. It was the first time he had invited Jayden over to his place. Sammy would stay at a friend’s house overnight and his father had told him he was following a lead and wouldn't be home at least until midnight either. He had deemed it safe and Jayden had looked at him with those big pleading blue eyes of his. »I mean, honestly! How am I supposed to ace that test on Monday? Hell, I doubt that Mr. Taylor expects anything but an F from my test anyway, right? I'm just not the sharpest tool in the shed - nothing new there, I guess.«

The slap across his head with Jayden’s writing pad did not even surprise him that much. »You're not stupid, Dean.« He sighed. Jayden was sitting cross-legged at the headboard of Dean’s bed, his back resting against it. To Dean, it was still weird to have a proper bedroom that he would share with Sammy. Of course, he had never told Jayden about their usual living conditions. He didn't want to look weird.

»No, I know, I know, I'm pretty much a genius.«

»Dean, come on, man. Stop putting yourself down, okay? Not everyone is good at math. See? You're not good at math, therefore you are incredible with other stuff!«

»Like what?« He scoffed. He wouldn't be able to name a thing he was good at.

»Let's see … I never met a guy our age who can speak Latin. How the fuck do you speak Latin?«

»I don't _speak_ Latin, Jay. I just know one or two phrases in Latin, that's about it. Anyone is able to do that.« Jayden was quite the handsome dude and one year older than Dean. And hadn't he been handsome and good looking in Dean’s eyes before, now that he was trying to cheer him up, he was undoubtedly that. His dark curls were ruffled from dragging his hands one too many times through it while doing his homework and his eyes were the deepest and cleanest blue Dean had ever seen.

»That's not true, Dean! I saw your notes! You _know_ that stuff! And … Well, history! You know quite a lot about history. That's how I noticed you in class, remember? No one expected you to give the right answer to that question but you just rambled on and on about all kinds of things related to that one question! You aced this class, Mr. Miles _loves_ you!«

»So what? I watch the history channel a lot.« That wasn't even a lie. He was still enjoying watching the history channel although he would claim that this wasn't the case if Sam would mock him for it.

»You can cook.«

»Everyone who can read can cook. Besides, someone has to. My dad poisons us if he tries.« He shrugged. Somehow this started to make him feel uncomfortable. He had never gotten close enough to anyone in the past few years for them to know these things about him. Giving up his protective walls now to let Jayden in a bit more, was scary.

»You take great care of your brother.«

»That's not even a skill. You're reaching, Jay.«

»You are athletic and strong. You are fast, you are very clever and you know your way around! Hell, you pick up on the smallest details ever and see patterns before most others even consider them! You could be an awesome detective - like Sherlock Holmes.«

»Now you're just poking fun at me. I'm going to be a mechanic like my dad, that's the only thing I can do, honestly.«

»I wished you would see yourself through my eyes just once.« Jayden sighed as he dropped his writing pad to the mattress and grabbed Dean’s hand to pull him closer. Dean obliged with another little scoff leaving his mouth as he scooted closer to Jay, only to leisurely climb onto his lap like it was no big deal at all that he would do something like this with another boy.

»Tell me then, Jayjay. What _do_ you see when you look at me?« He wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear that. No, in all honesty, he was afraid to hear what Jayden saw in him.

Jayden smirked and the little dimples on his cheek became even more prominent like that. »Let's see.« He started as he pulled him even closer, interlacing his fingers behind Dean’s neck as he did. The weight of Jayden's arms on his shoulders was familiar by now. »I see a damn good looking guy, first of all, with beautiful candy apple green eyes - which is quite the rare trait, I might add because green eyes are slowly getting extinct. So you see, Dean Winchester, you are an endangered species.« At least that made Dean laugh a little.

»Is that all you see? A dinosaur that's about to get extinct? I should reproduce then.«

»No, that's not all.« He laughed. »I see a boy who always gets the short end of the stick, you know? I see someone with a damn big heart - too big for his own good perhaps. You're taking care of your family and you never complain about it. You're smart, Dean and you know how to take care of yourself. You always think of others first. That's also a very rare trait. I like your humor too. You are witty and sarcastic and you are quite the nerd yourself, Dean. Don't even try to deny it! I watched you how you helped your brother win that Dungeons and Dragons game the other day.«

Dean couldn't even deny that he felt the heat creeping into his cheeks. Dungeons and Dragons was the least sexy thing Jayden should have watched him play. »Maybe I am a nerd.« He grinned instead of getting flustered as he decided to wiggle his eyebrows at his friend.

»Maybe you are.« He replied with the same wide grin as before. »Maybe I have the hots for nerds.«

»Maybe we should find out?« How could he resist this look of his? Or the way Jayden ran his tongue over his lips? Spoiler alert: He couldn't resist that at all. He was weak like this. So, Dean was the one leaning forward and pressing his lips against Jayden’s only to push past the barricade of his lips and ravage his mouth with a ferocity not many would expect from him. Jayden, however, was just as quick to respond to Dean’s attack as one would imagine as his grip on Dean’s neck suddenly became a lot stronger, his short nails carefully digging into his tender skin.

Dean was far too sensitive when it came to his neck and so he had quite the hard time not to melt right into that touch and as he did, he decided that he could live with being gay. He had never felt like this before with a girl. Then again, he was only fifteen - what experience did he really have anyway? Plus, and that was the one thing he would rather not think about now in that very moment but was a looming presence in the back of his head at all times, there was always his father who absolutely hated fags. Dean had grown up knowing that his dad hated homosexuals with his very soul. He had always heard him bicker about gay people, heard his sermon of how wrong and disgusting all of this was and he had eaten it all up because why would his father lie to him or be hateful for no reason? And yes, ever since that day with David and the following incident with that man, Dean had thought of himself as disgusting. Jayden, however, made him feel good and that was a completely new experience for him and one he didn't quite know how to deal with now.

So, he leaned into Jayden’s touch and his warmth and that feeling of trust and acceptance as if he was drowning and Jayden was the saving bit of oxygen he needed to survive. He let him lead instead of taking the lead himself. He enjoyed the heat building up between them, the way he felt under his fingertips, how firm his chest was in contrast to the soft chests of the girls he had been with.

He didn't hear the apartment door. He didn't hear the heavy footsteps of his father's steel capped work boots. He wished he had, but he didn't. He had been lost in this moment, his blood rushing in his ears, his heart thumping against his ribcage so hard that it was almost impossible to tame. And then all he felt was a strong hand in his short blonde hair, ripping his head back at once before he stared straight into his father's face.

He wasn't red with anger. He wasn't baring his teeth in fury. His nostrils were not flaring like those of a raging bull that saw red. His face was white. Completely white and Dean knew in that moment that he would never forget that face. This was the mask of pure fury and disgust. The purest form of impotent anger he had ever seen anyone portray. There was just the tiniest twitch in his father's left eye as he looked down at Dean with dark eyes and this was enough to make Jayden jump from the bed. He knew that it was not wise to say anything or do anything and yet, Dean would have wished his friend - his … boyfriend? - to stay and help him.

»You.« His father turned to the other boy as Jayden hurriedly grabbed his stuff already. »Out. And don't you dare come near me or my son ever again.« A part of him wondered if Jayden might suspect what would be next for Dean. Sure he knew. He wasn't dumb. Everyone would be able to tell that his father would not sit down with a nice cup of tea and biscuits with Dean to talk about his oldest son’s feelings now. Still, Jayden, who was so brave and like to help others, did nothing and he said nothing. He just grabbed his backpack and ran. In the end, even someone like Jayden, someone Dean had looked up to in the past weeks, was just like everyone else. Like the teachers in his past who had seen the bruises and did nothing, like those motel managers who had seen that there were two little boys all alone in their motel for days and who had done nothing. Like Bobby, who knew how John was and who had done nothing. Like his guardian angel who had been with him ever since he was little, who had seen everything and who had just … left.

As the apartment door fell shut, the first punch sent Dean straight to the ground and off the bed. »Dad! Dad, please!« Dean started but the first kick with those steel capped boots knocked the wind out of him. »Please, Dad! I can explain!« He tried again. »It's not how it looked like, Dad!« He was not shielding his head as he spoke and he regretted it as the next kick landed against his skull, making him dizzy and black dots appear in the corners of his eyes. Maybe the worst of it all was that his father wasn't saying anything. He wasn't shouting, he wasn't insulting him. He was stoic and silent as he kicked him viciously.

Dean was quite sure he had heard a rib break but he didn't dare to scream in pain. Only as his father finally stopped kicking, Dean tried to catch his breath again and lowered his hands after he had finally wrapped his arms around his head to protect it. »Please, Daddy!« He tried again to reason with his father through bloody teeth but all it did was making his father more furious.

»You are no son of mine, you dirty piece of trash! I always knew there was something wrong with you! I should have known you are a sick little faggot! I thought last year would have been a teaching moment in your miserable life, but no! You probably enjoyed it!« As his dad grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him away from the ground, Dean was sure he would be thrown out of the door like a bag of trash, but instead, his father pulled him to his legs only to throw him against the nearest chest of drawers.

Dean slammed chest first into it and as he heard another distinct crack, he was sure that now at least two ribs were broken. He could hardly breathe, only wheeze in terror as he heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being ripped out of a pair of jeans behind him.

The first hit with his father's leather belt came before Dean could even throw a glance over his shoulder and was aimed straight between his shoulder blades. This time, Dean did cry out in pain. His father had never beaten him with a belt. He had threatened to, but he had never done it. The pain was unbearable. At least, he thought, the belt did not hit his skin directly for now and yet he felt how his skin broke under the impact as the next hit came that shoved him even further into that chest of drawers that he was now clinging to almost desperately to not slump to the floor in pain. His father's hatred for homosexuals was clear, alright, but what he hated even more were weaklings, _sissies_.

If he wouldn't crumble, if he would hold out that punishment, if he would deal with it, if he would take it like a man, maybe then his father would forgive him and accept him the way he was. Hah. No, that was not going to happen and he knew that. His father would never accept him the way he really was. He would accept the Dean Winchester he wanted to see when looking at his son, that perfect little soldier who always did what his dad would tell him to do. And yet, that perfect little soldier would just bite his cheeks, set his jaw and gritted his teeth through the pain.

»I didn't raise you to be an assfucker, Dean Winchester!« His dad yelled and almost every word was underlined with another lash that made him flinch and his back bleed. He didn't count just how many lashes he got and why would he? He was not the type for morbid curiosity. He was just trying to survive this, trying not to make his dad more angry. »And you better not be one or I swear to god, I will throw you off the Empire State Building, you hear me, Dean? If you ever dare to touch Sam in any way, I’ll rip your arms off!«

That was probably the worst of all of this, the sole fact that his dad would even think Dean capable of hurting his brother or doing anything to him. His knees were shaking as he held onto the chest of drawers to not fall down already. He needed to stay upright and just grit his teeth, he needed to show his father that he was of tough stock. »I'm sorry, Sir.« Dean breathed through his teeth. »I promise you, this’ll never happen again.« He wasn't pleading like before because he knew there was no sense in pleading with his father at that point now. He hardly felt his back anymore. It was open and raw and numb as his father finally let go of him.

Dean knew better than to drop to the floor immediately so he held out a little longer with pain crippling his entire body.

»No, it won’t.« His father hissed, a dark promise still lingering in the air and Dean had no doubt that his father would fulfill that promise he had made to his oldest son. »Because you, boy, will pack your things and leave tonight. I don't want to see you.« He wanted to ask where he was going then but he didn't. If his dad would want to throw him out he would already have done so. »You’ll take the next Greyhound to Bobby’s and no, you will not call him along the way so that he’ll pick up your sorry ass somewhere. You’ll go by yourself like a man and you will work for your stay at his house. You will not visit school there either. And when Sam and I arrive in a few weeks, you better be the man I raised you to be.«

Only when his father left him inside the room and only as Dean heard the apartment door slam shut, he allowed himself to drop to the floor and just lay there for a moment in complete and utter agony. He had been beaten senseless before by his dad, but never like this. Where was his guardian angel now, he wondered as he lay there, unable to move or even think straight. That feathery bastard was never there when he needed him. Well, of course, he wasn't because his father was right, after all, wasn't he? There was no such thing as angels, there was no God. Why would God let something like this happen to him if he existed? No. His dad was right. His dad was always right.

※※※※※※※

John Winchester decided that he had had his fair share of hospital visits for this year. And he had had his fair share of visiting his sons in the hospital for an entire lifetime. As he walked into Adam’s hospital room on the children's unit, he gave his best not to look as stressed as he felt, then again, his worn out look, the stubbles and the bags under his eyes probably just made him look like a worried father and not like one who had left his dying son behind for no good reason whatsoever just to escape the situation. That was not the truth, of course, but that was what Bobby and Sam would probably think.

Adam still looked a bit groggy as John gently knocked on the doorframe of the wide open door before he stepped inside. It wasn't like he wouldn't love Adam. He did love that kid. He was his son but he had not much of him. Just like Dean, he favored his mother’s side and habits which was not too surprising anyway. Still, Adam was different from his older boys. Their relationship was different. The love he felt for him was different. As Adam turned his face now, he looked quite pale. »Hey there, Buddy.« John smiled and walked closer to the bed. He was aware that Kate would watch his every move now from outside the room as she had accompanied him to the room. She was mad, of course, after the revelation he had bestowed on her earlier.

»Dad!« Adam replied as his pale face lit up into a smile. Adam had quite the beautiful smile, that much he had to give that silly boy. His smile managed to lit up the entire room when he was not full of drugs and fresh out of the OR and he was already the favorite of the nurses on this unit - and that not just because they already knew him and his mother. However, this very smile reminded John also of how very rarely he saw his older boys smile. Dean hardly ever smiled anymore and John was aware that he was to blame for that too and not just the life they were living. Now that he thought about it, Adam looked quite a bit like Dean even and that smile of his was almost the same as Dean’s once was. »I broke my leg.«

»Yeah, I can see that, Boy.« John tried a little laugh as he reached the bed and ruffled through Adam’s hair. »But you’re taking it like a champ, aren’t you?«

»Sure am!«

»That’s my boy.« Just for a moment, John pulled the chair that stood at the wall closer to the bed to sit down on it while his thoughts were racing a hundred miles per second. »Your mom told me that you asked her to call me so that I would come, right?«

»Yes.« Suddenly his five year old boy looked a bit flustered before he glanced to the door and as John followed his eyes he saw that Kate leaned in the doorframe already, her arms crossed but her eyes soft as they rested on her son.

»Why?« John asked and tried his best to sound patient and soft. Of course, he noticed how differently he behaved around Adam. Would this be Dean or Sam, he would probably not even try to sound soft or patient. It was almost as if he was just playing a role now, like in the early stages of a new relationship. »I mean, you are a tough kid, Adam, right? You don't need your old man to hold your hand anymore.«

»No, I don't.« Adam huffed with red cheeks. Even that reminded him quite a lot of Dean now. »I just thought … Well … The fall wasn’t planned or something! I just fell with my bike and it happened, I swear! But I … You know Jason! My friend Jason! He said that … Well … As his parents separated … He had an accident, you know? And his parents got back together to be there for him … And I thought … You know … You and Mom might … get back together too.«

Again John glanced over his shoulder to Kate before he grabbed Adam's hand from where it was lying on top of his covers between his own much larger hands. He was not as fragile as Dean had been at five. He was almost as robust as Sammy had been at this age although Sammy had been quite the chubby kid thanks to Dean’s efforts. »Listen, Adam« He started but as Kate cleared his throat not so very discreetly, John bit back a small sigh. »I understand that, you know? It's not easy for you and I wished I could be with you guys a little more often, I truly do. But you know, your mom and I … We are not in love, Buddy. We are friends, though, and we are always going to be there for you, I promise. But we will never be a couple, Adam. I promise you though, that I am going to try to be here a little more often.«

»John.« Kate’s voice made him look over at her again and suddenly, as he looked at her face and into her blue eyes, he felt as if that wish of bringing his parents back together was not solely Adam’s. Maybe that kind of friendship he had thought to have had with Kate did not work out in the end after all - or at least not as good as he had thought it would. What a shame, really. She discreetly pointed for him to follow her outside.

»Give me a moment, okay?« He turned to Adam again as he gently pressed his hand and stood up to follow Kate outside. »What, Kate? I told you I have not much time.« He kept his voice down as they stood just a few feet away from the open door.

»Are you going to tell him about his brothers or what?« She kept her voice just as low but he could feel the anger radiating from her like heat from an old timely heater. She was pissed, that much was certain and probably because John had just crushed her hopes of getting back together with him. Well, it wasn't his fault that she had hoped for him to join them as a family, was it? He had never done anything to further those hopes - Well, he had never done anything to drown them either.

»What? No! Of course not!« He replied immediately with a groan. Why did he need to have this talk now of all times? He was not the most patient man on this planet and of all people, Kate knew that. Couldn't she see how agitated he was?

»Why not?«

»Because he will think I love them more than him because I am with them and not him all the time! And because I do not have time for a discussion like that right now. I told you I have to go back!«

»Oh don't be ridiculous. If you tell him the truth he’ll understand that.« John wanted to protest again, but before he knew it, Kate was already pulling him back inside the room. »Adam, your dad has something else he wants to tell you.« She announced with a firm voice and never in his life had John wished more that he would be able to knock her out. Then again, that feistiness of hers was what had drawn him to her in the first place all those years ago. It was what had drawn him to Mary too.

»Really, Daddy?« Adam asked with huge eyes now that he looked at him again. »What is it?«

He was a good liar. John Winchester had mastered the art of coming up with a believable lie within just seconds by now but as he looked from Adam to Kate he knew that she would call him out on his bullshit if he would dare to lie now in this situation. So, with an annoyed little sigh and a dark glare directed at Kate, he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. He didn't need long to find what he had been looking for before he pulled out the polaroid Bobby had made last Christmas as they had visited him again. It showed Dean and Sam sitting on Bobby’s sofa and going about the stuff that Bobby had gotten them. Bobby, being the good friend he was, had told them that their father had gotten those presents for them. They hadn't even noticed that the picture was taken until it had been too late and their protest still rang in his ears to this day.

This time, he did not sit down on the chair but motioned for Adam to scoot over a little so that he could sit down on the edge of the bed instead. »Here.« He sighed and gave the photo over to Adam.

»Who’s this?«

»Those are your two big brothers, Adam.« The boy looked at him as if he had just told him he was Santa Claus and maybe to Adam this reveal was like getting belated Christmas presents. He knew that Adam had always wanted siblings. Of course, John grew aware of how close Kate was scooting over to them now, curious about the picture and what his older boys looked like. How much would he have liked to tell her to back off...

»My what?«

»The big one is Dean, the little one is Sam.« John explained further as if he hadn't heard the question. »You can keep the photo if you like.« It wasn't as if he had a wallet full of pictures of his sons but after the fire, after they had lost everything, he cherished the few pictures he did have. He still had Dean and Sam's baby photos of course. And a photo of Mary. »You know, their mother died almost twelve years ago and that's why I take them through the states with me on my jobs.«

»Are they here now too?« Adam looked almost hopeful.

»No.« John replied and brushed a hand through his hair. »That's why I have to go back real soon too. You see, Dean« He pointed on Dean on the photo again. »he had an accident the other day. He is in the hospital in Winona now.«

»Did he break his leg too?«

John almost chuckled at Adam’s naivete. He almost didn't want Adam to meet his boys because he feared they might taint him in some way and make him lose this naivete of his. »He broke a few bones, yes.« He smirked for just a second before he got serious again. »And he’s in a coma now.«

»That's bad, right?«

»Pretty bad.« John agreed softly. »But you see - Dean, your big brother, he is quite the fighter, you know? He will pull through this but he needs a bit time, I assume. Sometimes, when you get injured real bad, your body decides to stay asleep so it can heal. That's what's going on with Dean right now. He heals and he’s quite strong too.«

Adam was quiet for a moment longer and John was almost afraid of his next question. Surely, he would ask him if his brothers knew about him or not. He was bound to ask that question, wasn't he? However, Adam surprised him as he looked up at John this time. »Can I meet them?«

John looked to Kate again but her face to him was unreadable. Had she hoped that Adam would be upset? Why would she? Then again, he couldn't really tell anymore what this woman was thinking by now. »If you want to and if your mom allows you to, then yes. And maybe, when we are in the state again, they can visit you too, if you’d like them to.«

Adam took that revelation a lot better than John would have expected him to. However, he was aware that the real task would be telling his other boys. They would probably not take it that easily. All hell would break loose, he could already smell the sulfur in the air. It wasn't long after that little conversation that Adam started asking more questions about his brothers. He wanted to know everything of course and John was happy to supply him with information. Talking about his boys with Adam was odd and as he did, he started to realize just how proud he really was of them both. They were such strong and brave kids.

As evening was slowly approaching, John finally left the hospital again. He had not talked to Kate much after all of that and frankly, he didn't want to anyway. He was still angry that she took that decision from him and now all he wanted to do was to get back to his boys as fast as possible. It was already dark as he pulled out of Windom and onto the largely deserted country roads. The heavy clouds that were lingering in the sky and hid the moon promised of snow. In just a few hours, Dean would turn sixteen and a small part of him hoped perhaps that Dean would wake up just in time. He wanted to make it to the hospital before midnight, just in case. And yes, he was very aware that he had missed his birthday last year - and the year before. No, he had not _missed_ Dean’s birthdays, he had forgotten about them. This time, however, he would be there. He would not leave Dean alone again this time.

However, as he listened to the news on the radio, his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of the pocket of his jacket and accepted the call without putting a second thought to it. Just as he was about to say something, he became aware of the sob coming from the other end before Sam’s voice suddenly came through the phone, shaking and hoarse. »Dad!« Sam wailed and John could feel his heart drop into his pants just by that tone of voice alone. »Dad, you need to come back!«

»What's wrong, Sammy? Calm down and tell me what's wrong.«

»It's Dean, Dad! He’s dying! You need to come home, Dad!«

 

**-End of Chapter 9-**


	10. Chapter 10

John Winchester was sure that he had never driven his car as fast as on this very night. He forced his car down the deserted country roads lying between him and his boy. He didn't care that he was breaking the law as he went against the speed limit. Sam's voice was still ringing in his ears as he rode down those streets. Sam was none to cry easily and yet he had done just that. He had bawled his eyes out on the other end of that phone, unable to collect or calm himself until Bobby had taken the phone from him. Honestly, even as Bobby had explained the situation as calm as he could, John hadn't listened to his old friend at all.

He reached Winona and the hospital half past eleven and had reached the children’s unit within just a few minutes after that. He found Sam sitting outside of Dean’s room on one of the chairs that were set up along the wall facing the door to his brother’s room. The door was wide open and yet, Sam did not seem comfortable with getting inside.  

Of course, John wanted to go straight to Dean, but seeing Sammy outside of his brother’s room looking oh so very miserable, he couldn't bring himself to just ignore Sam. Despite all their bickering and all their differences, Sam was, after all, his son too. So, as he stepped closer towards the row of chairs, he felt agitated. »Heya, Sammy« He quietly addressed his son but Sam didn't even look at him. He seemed frozen in whatever state he was in. A part of him wanted to shake him and demand to know everything that happened but before he could even do that, he noticed the young physician that immersed from down the hallway. He recognized the young doctor as Doctor Turner from the night Dean was hospitalized and as he walked past Dean’s wide open door, he finally realized that the bed was empty and felt his stomach drop.

Right now he couldn't care less if his younger son had a mental breakdown or not. He knew that he should care and that it was his job to care but he just couldn't bring himself to do just that. »What's going on?« He asked the physician before that young man could even open his mouth to greet him, but Doctor Turner motioned him to walk away from Sam a little as if he didn't want Sam to hear any of this.

»Your son went into shock earlier this evening.« The doctor quietly informed him in a voice that probably tried to sound compassionate but in the end sounded more as if this was just one more day of the usual for him. At least the doctor tried, he assumed. »The swelling of his brain went back quite a bit by now, so we think that something in his medication caused his spasmic attacks. We managed to help him without another surgery. We would have needed to reduce the pressure on his brain had the swelling not gone down that good on it's own. Yet, Mr. Winchester, I’m afraid I have to tell you that your son’s condition is far from being good. He is stable, for now but something like this attack he has suffered from earlier can happen again and we don’t know if next time it may lead to a heart attack or a seizure.«

»I'm sure you do everything you can.« The words came out forced but John knew it was the right thing to say in a situation as dire as this.

»Mr. Winchester, I have to inform you that a cerebral hemorrhage of any kind is always a life-threatening condition and though your son seems to be a trooper, a subdural hemorrhage like your son’s is no walk in the park. We have to monitor him closer now to detect any sign of intolerance to his medication or if the swelling goes up again now that we changed the medication.« All that medical speak … Hell, as if John would be able to understand a fucking thing about it! Even if his mind would not be racing right now. He couldn't care less for all those explanations.

»Can I see him now?«

»We’ll keep him on intensive care for the night to monitor him properly. You can go in but only one at the time. A nurse will bring you there and inform you of the necessary steps to follow.«

»What about Sam?« John asked nodding to the little boy sitting just a few feet away from them now. »Is he allowed to see his brother?«

»How old is he?«

»Eleven.«

»I'm afraid not, Sir.« Dr. Turner finally sighed and John knew that there was no way of talking around that either. Not that he would have been interested in trying. » It's our hospital's policy to ensure the best medical care and prevention from infections for the patient to not allow children under the age of twelve on the IC unit. However, if Dean has a good night and if his data suggests that he is ready to get transported back to the children's unit, Sam can visit him as much as he likes to again.«

John nodded absentmindedly as he looked back at Sam again. He looked so lost and small without his big brother to keep him company now.  John was almost afraid to tell Sam that he couldn't see Dean tonight. He would be furious.

»If you’d like to, I’ll call Nurse Parker to bring you to your son. At the moment, his Uncle, Mr. Singer, is with him.« Bobby, yes, of course. He almost forgot about Bobby. Again, he nodded and was almost surprised to feel the reassuring hand of Doctor Turner on his shoulder as he gently squeezed it before he left. John stood there for a moment and as he finally walked back to Sam, he threw a glance through that open door to Dean’s room for a second time. It was so strange to see that the bed was empty and messy as if he had just gotten up to pee, as if everything would be okay again. Soon someone would tidy up the room and make the bed and Dean Winchester would be forgotten.

»Hey Sam.« John addressed his younger son again as he sat down next to him. If Sam would be Adam, he would put an arm around his shoulders now and pull him closer. But Sam was Sam and he was he. So there was no hug, there was no brief fatherly moment and it was not because he wouldn't want to but because he knew Sam couldn't stand him at the moment, as hard as this might be to accept even for John. »I know you hate me right now, Sammy.« He sighed as he folded in on himself and traced his jaw with the fingers of his left hand. He needed a shave. »And you have every right to do so. I know I should have been here. If Dean would have died … I wouldn't … I would never forgive myself.«

»Where were you?« Sam finally asked and his voice was hoarse and thin as he did. His green eyes were rimmed red and from the salty traces that were still left on his cheeks it was all too obvious that he had been crying. Now that John truly looked at his younger son, he noticed that although Sam’s eyes were green just like Dean’s, they were not as pure as his older brother’s. They had small specks of gold and brown in them too, maybe even a hint of blue. Had they always looked like this or did he just never notice?

»I was in Windom.«

»On a hunt?«

»No.« Sam drew in a breath of air a little sharper this time but before he could ask further questions, John shut him up again. »Sammy, I will tell you the truth, you and Dean, just not now, okay? Not _tonight_. Bobby will bring you back to the motel. You’ll stay with him tonight, I’ll stay with Dean.«

There was no complain and that in itself was quite odd. Sam always complained about stuff. That was just how his boy was and that was just how their relationship worked. He was never just giving up so easily and John, for once, truly didn't know what to make of it. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was the shock of the situation that stuck with him. He had seen his brother like this, after all. He had seen the attack that Dean had suffered from first hand. He had seen his big brother, his big hero brother, like this and that was probably something Sam would never be able to forget at all.

Nurse Parker shot him a sympathetic little smile as she later came to collect him. John parted ways with Sammy after he gently brushed a hand through Sam's thick soft hair. For once, the nurse wasn't as talkative than before as he led the way to the IC unit. Only as they reached the door behind which Dean was lying, she spoke again.

»You’ll see, Mr. Winchester, your son will get through that. It's his birthday, isn't it? Well, if that doesn't call for a little miracle…« She smiled again before she opened the door. It was a sorry attempt of cheering him up and trying to put some hope into his mind and although John knew that things did not tend to become better in his cursed little life, he appreciated the effort. Through the large window in the door, he saw Bobby sitting next to his boy but Bobby rose as soon as he saw John. His friend looked grey and old as he stepped outside as if he aged by years within just hours. He didn't look at John though and he was sure that this was only the case because Bobby would strangle him would he meet his eyes now. John knew his friend well enough that he could say that with confidence. And, after all, Bobby had promised him that he would rip him apart would he ever leave his boys behind again. He would need to talk to Bobby soon about Adam too. Maybe then his friend would understand why he had left Dean.

»Bobby, wait.« He mumbled as Nurse Parker was out of earshot but although Bobby paused for a second there, he just glared at John sideways.

»Not now, John. If you make me stay right now, I cannot account for what I am going to do. Go to Dean and for one time in your miserable fucking life, stay with that boy. I’ll take care of Sam.« He left before John could even begin arguing and maybe that was for the better too. As John now walked into the room his oldest son was lying in, hooked to machines, he almost didn't even know what to do. He just stood there, quietly, watching how Dean’s chest rose and fell thanks to the machine that kept him breathing, making John believe that there was still fight left inside his boy. Dean was not yet done fighting.

He didn't quite dare to sit down on the chair Bobby had pulled up to the bed, instead, he stayed standing at the end of the bed, his hands resting on the bed frame. »Hey there, Dean-o.« John heard himself murmur as his eyes darted over that body on the bed. He couldn't look at Dean’s face at the moment. He couldn't stand seeing him like this, seeing that tube stuck down his throat to make him breathe. Maybe that was why he had chosen to keep away as much as possible although he was aware that this was just some sorry excuse. Dean was thin. Had he always been that thin or was he just looking that way now because of the circumstances? He, as his father, should know, shouldn't he?

He found Dean’s feet only inches away from the end of the bed where he was standing. Hell, he had grown so much lately. He was already almost as tall as John was. Soon, he would tower over his old man. Before he knew it, his hands had found those feet and he just stood there and grabbed them and the blanket that was covering them up. He didn't even know why he did that but yet, he remembered that he had done exactly that as Dean had been a baby. Unlike Mary, John had been too afraid to really carry Dean around the first year, but he had often just grabbed those tiny feet when Mary had held him or when he had been lying on his little blanket on the floor in the living room. And Dean, being the happy baby he was, had squealed at him in joy.

»I know that I’m a shitty dad.« John finally sighed as he was watching his hands and not Dean. »I'm sorry that I was never really there for you guys. I'm sorry for how I treated you, Dean. But maybe … Maybe you could give me a second chance and just wake up, okay? Could you do that for me? I can’t promise to become the father you wished I would be, but I can promise that I will _try_ to become the father you boys deserve.«

There was no response, of course. And no miracle that was making Dean wake up all of the sudden as if his boy had only waited to hear those words out of his father’s stupid mouth. None of that crap. Only machines beeping and silence. And so, after a while, John walked around the bed, sat down on that chair and waited.

As the next morning arrived and the doctor came checking in on Dean, John had not even tried to sleep. He felt utterly exhausted and yet, he was glad to hear that Dean seemed fit to go back to the children's unit that afternoon. Sam was, naturally, excited to hear that news. He had managed to get Bobby to buy some balloons for Dean's room and one or two gifts that they thought Dean would need. Practical stuff, of course. A new hunting knife from Bobby, a new, thick scarf for those cold winter days from Sammy and a freshly made cherry pie, waiting for Dean to wake up and eat it.

However, Sam’s childish naivete that his brother would surely wake up to some delicious pie on his birthday, was crushed as the day progressed and there was just no sign of any improvement on Dean’s end. It was already getting dark outside again, as Bobby found the courage to confront Sam about that very fact.

»Hey, Sam, how about we share the pie with the nurses and doctors, huh? Would be a shame if it would go to waste.« Sam looked at Bobby as if Bobby had just announced he was Hitler himself. Clearly, eating that birthday pie they had made for Dean without Dean was a sacrilege in his eyes and almost, John found it endearing.

»No!« Sam frowned. »That’s Dean’s pie and we will not eat it without him! I don't care if it gets spoiled or anything, we can always make another!«

»Alright, alright.« Bobby replied as he raised his hands in defiance. »I'm not gonna touch that pie, Sam. But I’m hungry. How about we go grab a bite to eat and then I’ll bring you back to the motel?« Sam was, of course, not very happy with that proposal. They all knew he wanted to stay with Dean because he still hoped that Dean would wake up tonight. Honestly, he wasn't the only one, for John had the same hope deeply ingrained in his mind too.

Still, despite the fact that Sam wanted to stay, at least he allowed Bobby to take him out for dinner, ordering his father to call if something happened, on his way out. They didn't even ask John if he wanted to come with them or not and John couldn't blame them. He would have said no anyway, of course, for someone should stay with Dean, but he could understand that they were both not very fond of him right now.

Hell, he wasn't very fond of himself either. He could hardly look at himself in the mirror when he was visiting the bathroom.

Only shortly Bobby called later that night to tell him that he was taking Sam to his motel room to keep an eye on the boy again like last night and John was kind of glad that he would be left alone with Dean for the rest of the night. That gave him time to collect his thoughts and reevaluate his life, perhaps.

It was around eleven PM, as he pulled out his wallet and filed through it until he found that photo of Mary and Dean that he was carrying around with him ever since he had made it with that old Polaroid camera of his that had been a victim of the flames. He had made that photo the morning after Dean’s birth, when he had come back to the hospital with flowers and presents and excitement making his heart beat faster. What would Mary think of him now if she would see him like this? She had always been fierce, always been a lioness when it came to her children. She would never have allowed him to treat Dean the way he had treated that boy.

»I'm sorry, Mary.« He sighed as he just stared at her pretty glowing face in that old photo. »I was so possessed by the thought of finding that monster that killed you, that I took everything from our boys. I wished you were here now to straighten out my head, although I have to say, Sammy does a very good job in that regard too. He clearly has a smart mouth on him. Dean too. You would be proud to see what became of them and how much they’ve grown. And Dean … Hell, I don't even know what I would do without that kid.« He scoffed at his own words. »Though I must say, looking back on everything, I sure had a strange way of showing my appreciation of him, huh? One thing’s for sure, Mary, we’re not going to be reunited in Heaven one day. I’m going straight to hell for what I put Dean through all those years. Now all I can hope for is a second chance to make it up to him. But I’m afraid that I have already forfeited it.« He placed the photo on the nightstand next to Dean’s bed and leaned it against the vase of flowers one of Dean’s teachers had brought in a few days ago. Of course, this was not a gesture of compassion but just something that woman thought she had to do out of politeness.

His eyes fell on the clock above the door and with a sigh, he noticed that Dean’s birthday was almost over again. The miracle they had all hoped for, never came and it had gotten more and more unlikely that Dean would recover from his injuries. Of course, the swelling of his brain had gone down, but he was still not breathing on his own. John didn't much care for the gentle words the nurses said to him. He knew how those things usually went. He had been to Vietnam, he had seen his fair share of bloodshed and injury and he knew that Dean’s chances were slim now after over a week had gone by already. Soon his body would start giving in. His kidneys would fail and from then on it would only go downhill.

As he dragged his hands over his jaw his eyes fell on Dean’s face again. He would look peaceful would it not be for that tube that was taped to his mouth. His boy was sixteen years old now and he did not deserve to die in a fucking hospital bed at the age of sixteen just because he hadn't been there to keep him from doing something so incredibly stupid!

It was the first time since he first came to this hospital that John found himself grabbing Dean’s hand that was resting next to his body on the mattress - the one without the IV needle stuck in his skin. Dean hated needles. His hand was colder than it should be but not deadly cold yet, so, he grabbed his hand with both of his own much larger hands to rub a bit of warmth back into it. »You know, God« He began quietly as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if he expected to see someone up there. »I know I was never one for praying and I have done a lot of things you surely didn't like at all, but if you would grant me just this one little miracle, I swear that I’m going to do everything in my power to be a better man, a better father and to hunt down all evil that desecrates your name.«

Of course, no response. Mary had been the one who had believed in God and angels and all of that. John never had and he had never seen anything wrong with not believing in that sort of stuff either. It was just who he was and how he felt and that was okay. Even Mary had said that it was okay. Now, however, he wasn't so sure anymore. What if it wasn't okay? What if God was punishing him now for his lack of belief in him? Maybe that was the curse that was resting on his name.

»Please.« He sighed and lowered his eyes to the ground, clutching Dean’s hand in his as he closed his eyes firmly. » _Please_ , just give me back my boy. I don't know what to do without him. He is such a good kid, he deserves more than this. Please, God, give him back - You can’t have him yet.« If there was a God, he was an asshole. John wanted to curse and scream if pleading wouldn't work, but instead, he clenched his teeth and shook his head. He was being pathetic. Then again, praying was the only solution left to a desperate man and desperate he was indeed.

Suddenly, there was a twitch. It wasn't very much at first, hardly noticeable even, but as it happened again, John realized that it had been Dean’s hand that had twitched in his. His heart made a jump, but his mind was quick to shut down all blossoming hope because that twitch didn't need to mean anything. Just a reaction of his body. As it happened a third time, John opened his eyes again to look at Dean. His eyes were still closed and as John was already about to let this little twitch slide as a natural reaction of Dean’s dying body, his eyes suddenly flew open.

Everything after that was a blur and happened so fast that he was hardly able to realize what was going on. The moment Dean opened his green eyes, his body started fighting against the tube in his throat and before Dean could do anything himself, John was at the door, calling for a nurse. It was the young nurse, Nurse Parker, who came rushing inside, followed by a young doctor. He was pushed aside as they hurried to the bed to remove the tube from Dean’s throat carefully and John could only watch with horror and stunned excitement at the same time as he watched Dean choke and cough and wheeze before drawing in shuddering breaths of his own only to wince in pain from his injuries.

He listened to the nurse and doctor talking, calling it a medical miracle, reading the data from the machine, checking in on Dean. He watched how the young doctor was talking to Dean, making sure that the boy was aware of his surroundings, making sure he could see and hear properly - checking if he had any brain damage. That was the next thing on John's mind which he had refused to take into consideration until now. What if his son had brain damage from all of this? What if Dean could no longer function as he had before? What if Dean wasn't _Dean_ anymore? Hell, he could hardly take care of his boys as it was until now and what if now he had to deal with a child that was disabled? This would be fitting, he guessed. God's punishment for him.

Soon he realized that Dean wasn't looking at the doctor or this nurse. He was looking at him, at his father and it was almost as it had been sixteen years ago as Dean had opened his eyes for the very first time. As John slowly walked over to the bed, he found himself glancing at the clock. It was ten minutes before midnight. »You always had a sense for dramatic entries, Dean-o.« He found himself smirking as he stood next to the bed and grabbed Dean’s hand again. Hell, he was aware how hoarse his own voice sounded and yes, he could have been crying from the joy he felt just knowing that his son was alive and awake now but there was still fear lingering on his mind.

As Dean opened his mouth to speak there wasn't much coming out at first and Nurse Parker was quick to lay a gentle hand on Dean’s uninjured shoulder. »Don’t rush yourself, Sweetheart, everything is fine.« She gently assured him but Dean wouldn't be Dean would he not try to talk anyway.

»Hey, Dad…« He breathed and his voice was so hoarse that it was barely louder than a whisper. John’s heart almost sunk right into his pants at this and this time, there was no denying of the burning sensation in his red-rimmed eyes anymore.

»Heya, Dean.« He smiled and encapsulated Dean’s hand in both of his again. »Happy Birthday, little one.«

※※※※※※※

Dealing with life when only in possession of one functioning arm was a bitch. That was a lesson Dean learned quickly after he was released from the hospital a week after he had woken up again. The cerebral hemorrhage he had sustained from the trauma to his head, had gone away apparently all on its own, just like the swelling of his brain. The medical staff had called it a miracle. However, his left arm was still pretty much unusable. His dislocated shoulder needed rest, just like his sprained wrist. The real bitch was that his hand was broken too and thus he needed a lot more help than usual.

He had been surprised, but glad to see that his father had packed up all their stuff on the day he was released. They would drive straight to Bobby and stay there until Dean was fully recovered and, of course, Sam wouldn't leave his side for a second during all of that. His brother stayed with him through it all, almost annoyingly so even, always eager to help his big brother do the most mundane tasks around Bobby’s house. It was a little unnerving - as was his father’s constant presence around the house. He was not used to having his father around and actually care about him and Sammy, even though the more cynical part of him, the part who had been wide awake all those years, thought that his father didn't actually care about them.

No, this was just a facade and they all knew it. This was John Winchester trying to act like a good father without actually being one because that would need a kind of effort that he was not willing to put into it. Well, as long as he was not going to be naive about it, he couldn't get hurt again, Dean assumed as he stepped outside of Bobby’s house in the early morning hours of this Saturday. He couldn't stand being locked inside all the time. Sure, he had just been released from the hospital and his left arm was entirely useless, but he could still go for a walk, he assumed.

»Dean!« Or maybe not. As he looked back over his shoulder his father appeared in the door that had just fell shut behind Dean.

»Hey, Dad.« He smirked so that he wouldn't sigh in annoyance. »You’re up early.«

»So are you.« John replied with a smirk of his own as he pointed at Dean’s attire. »What are you up to?«

»Just going on a walk before Sammy wakes up and clings to me for the rest of the day like some heartbroken chick.« He pulled his new green scarf a little tighter around his neck, his new hunting knife was stuck in his left boot just in case he would need to defend himself. One could never be too careful. »Really, I love that little bundle of joy, Dad, but those chick flick moments of his are starting to get out of hand.«

»Mind if I would join you? I could use a little bit of fresh air myself.«

He couldn't say no, could he? He couldn't let his father down when he would ask him something like that, could he? After all, they were all trying to be a family here, right? Well, a weird, dysfunctional family but a family nonetheless! He had to try at least. So, he shrugged his shoulders. »Sure thing.«

»Alright, I’ll be right back. Just let me grab my jacket.« Before he could reply anything his father was back inside to grab his thick leather jacket and it was not even two seconds before he joined Dean outside again to slowly walk down a couple of steps that led to the porch. They walked in silence after they left the yard with its mountain of cars looming in the background of these early morning hours as the sun had not yet risen completely and only tinted the sky above in a dark magenta. »How’s your arm?« His father turned to him as they headed for the small forest not too far off from Bobby’s property. It was a quite silly attempt at making small talk but Dean appreciated the effort his father was trying to make here. He didn't want to be an ungrateful little brat.

»Getting better.« Dean shrugged. »Though my hand still hurt like hell. Annoys the crap out of me.«

»Good. Good.« Somehow Dean suspected that his father had not actually listened to his answer but that wouldn't be anything new either, he assumed. His father never actually listened. As he looked up at him now, however, he could see that there was something on his mind. Maybe his brain was just trying to find excuses for his dad’s behavior again. »Dean let me ask you one question, okay? And please answer truthfully.«

»Sure, Dad, what's wrong?«

»That ghost in Winona.« Dean tensed a little. His father had yet to beat his ass for this slip-up. He hadn't done so until now but probably only because either Sam or Bobby had been hovering close by the entire time. »Would you like to go back and finish it off? Your brother and Bobby have done a great job in finding out who our ghost is. They wanted to do it themselves. Your little brother wanted to kick his ass for hurting his big bro.« John chuckled softly. »But I told them that I wanted to ask you first.«

What was he supposed to say now? The possibility of having to face that ghost alone made him sick to the stomach already but destroying it? Yes, he had been there when his father had done so in the past and he knew how it worked but actually doing it? »Sure, why not.« The answer came almost automatically but his father didn't seem to notice and if he did notice, he didn't care for this was the answer that he had wanted to hear and expected to hear from his perfect little soldier.

»Okay, good. As soon as you feel better, the two of us go back to do the salt and burn then.« Dean nodded absentmindedly to it. He had no other choice anyway. Then again wasn't that the problem in all of this? Wasn't that what made him do the stupid thing in the first place? Not that his father would honestly care, though.

As they entered the forest, the silence came back with full force and that was almost even more uncomfortable as actually having to talk to his father for once. »Dad … I know you are angry that I thought I could face that ghost alone and that I endangered Sam too. I fucked up big time there.He wasn't quite sure for a moment there, but the confused look his father shot him seemed honest enough.

»No, Dean … Listen, I shouldn't have discouraged like I did on that phone call. I was an asshole.«

That was new. It was new and caused a great deal of uncertainty to Dean. He knew how to deal with an angry dad, but he didn't know how to deal with a dad who agreed that he had behaved like an asshole. Should he agree? Should he tell him how afraid he was of his own father sometimes? Should he tell him how he felt? Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't know how. He was not Sam. Sam could ramble on and on about his feelings when one would make the mistake of asking him but Dean … Hell, he had never learned how! »It's okay.« Dean replied because that was the only thing he could think of as a proper answer. »I mean … I get it, Dad. You were on a hunt and I was annoying. No big deal.«

»Dean« This time his father’s voice almost sounded exasperated but surely he was just imagining things now. Only as his father suddenly put his hand on his right shoulder, Dean tensed up again. He didn't know if his father could feel that through the leather jacket he was slowly starting to outgrow but if he had felt it, he didn't act on it. »Dean … I want to apologize how I treated you that night … How I treated you almost your entire life. I’m sorry, Dean. I put too much on your shoulders and I should have known that you would try to find that ghost just to prove that you could deal with it. Hell, I raised you to do something as reckless as this so why should I be surprised when you go out and actually do it?« Dean shot him a small crooked grin even though it missed its usual mirth and didn't even reach his eyes.

»No big deal, Dad, really. I understand it. That stuff you deal with everyday … It's just a lot, right? Really, I get it, Dad. His father looked almost exhausted as they exchanged a small glance before he took his hand away again only to shove it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

»There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.«

»Oh?« This couldn't be good. It just couldn't.

»Yes … Well … I wanted to tell you before I tell Sammy.« Suddenly, Dean could feel his heart drop right into his pants and he paused without thinking twice in the middle of the clearing they had just reached all the while he tried to suppress the memory of the last time he and his father had been in a forest alone together.

»Are you sick?« The question left him almost a bit too panicked and he only grew aware of that fact as he noticed how surprised his father was by this sudden outburst of worry from his oldest child. Hell, as if Dean worrying about his family members would honestly be something new to anyone.

»No, Dean.« He chuckled softly and ruffled his hair, mindful of his still healing head injury. »I'm not sick and I'm not going anywhere either. I wanted to tell you something about that night you got hurt.« He was avoiding to look at Dean now and for some reason, Dean already knew that something big, like a storm, would come his way soon. »I wasn't actually on a hunt. Well, I mean, I was on a hunt, but the vampire nest was not the only reason I went to Windom, Dean.«

»It wasn't?«

»No.« For a moment, his father was completely silent but his face told Dean all he needed to know as his father seemed to try to wrap his brain around just how to say it.

»It was a woman, right? You have an affair living in Windom and you visited her but didn't want to tell us.« Dean sighed and gently nudged his father's left shoulder with his right hand. »It's okay, Dad, no biggie. I understand that you didn't want to tell us - especially Sammy. He gets so emotional so quickly. Every fling you have is a catastrophe of world ending qualities in his eyes. But you’re just a guy, right? I mean, hell, Sammy doesn't get it yet but he will, right?«

For some reason that Dean could not even begin to get behind, his father started laughing and Dean wasn't even sure when he had heard him laugh the last time. When had he himself laughed the last time?

»Oh, Dean« He chuckled. »I’m glad you see it that way and I would have expected nothing less from you, after all, you are quite good with the ladies yourself, right?« He felt his stomach churn and yet he smirked. He wasn't wrong, after all, but sometimes he wondered if his father had forgotten about what had happened a year ago. Jayden was still on his mind from time to time and there was nothing he could do about it. Needless to say, he had never seen or spoken to him ever again. »But no, I don't have an affair in Windom, Dean. I mean, I had, a few years ago. That's the point.«

»What point?«

»Dean.« Again with that serious tone as his father stopped once more. Before Dean understood what was happening, his father had put both hands on his shoulders to turn his body towards him before he pulled out his wallet. After a moment of searching, his father pulled a small photo out of it. Hell, Dean had seen those photos that his father had in his wallet a million times! However, his father’s eyes rested upon that photo for a moment, before he gave it to Dean.

It took him a few seconds to realize that the boy in the photo, no older than five at best, was neither Sam nor he. He had never seen that before. »Who’s that?«

»That's Adam, Dean. He's the reason why I like to stop in this area from time to time.«

»So … You’re saying every time we are in Minnesota, you drop Sammy and me off at some crappy motel to drive to that town and see that boy? Why? Who’s Adam, Dad?« His father might think him a bit slow and at the moment Dean felt like it too, but in reality, Dean already knew the answer to that question. Adam, that little boy with the dirty blonde hair and the blue eyes on this photo who laughed like he knew nothing of the evil that existed in the world, was his brother.

»Dean, do you really want me to spell it out for you?«

»Yes!« He suddenly found himself shouting. »Yes, I want you to spell it out, Dad! You owe me that much!« For once, Dean did not even care if his sudden outburst of anger would maybe infuriate his father and probably lead him to be violent again. He almost wished that his father would start beating him instead of just standing there oh so very calm and collected, scratching nervously on his neck as if Dean wouldn't already know what was going on!

»He’s your little brother, Dean.« He sighed. »Listen, Dean, I met his mother six years ago when I was injured during a hunt. We had a fling, no big deal, and nine months later she called me and told me she had given birth to a son. So what was I going to do?«

»You could have told us then and there!« Dean hissed as he shoved his father with his uninjured hand. It was the first time that he was the one getting physical with his dad and he could see how stunned his father was about it. Surely not as stunned as Dean, though. »We have a little brother, Dad! You have another son! We deserved to know! He is our _brother_! Our _family_ too! Did you want to keep that a secret from Sammy and me for the rest of our lives? And what about Adam? Does he even know? Did you plan on keeping that second family of yours a secret at the side to go to when you had enough of Sammy and me?«

Again, he shoved at his father and this time with enough force to even make him lose his footing on the forest floor and stumble backward. Would there be snow covering the ground he would have probably fallen. »Is that it? They don't know about us, do they? You created a place for yourself where there are no monsters and a dead wife and that thirst for revenge, didn't you? You created yourself a nice little vacation spot while Sammy and I were alone in those dirty motels, trying to figure out how to get by with the bit of money you would leave us! Is that why you were such an ass to me on the phone that night? You were there! _Oh my God, Dad!_ You were there! You wanted to get rid of me! That's why you berated me! That's why you insulted me! You wanted to get rid of me so that you could go back to your picture-perfect holiday family! You didn't care about Sammy and me!« Every accusation, Dean underlined with another shove at his father and only because if he wouldn’t be violent, he knew that he would break down for good.

A part of him wondered even if his father was aware how much that revelation hurt. Dean could almost see his father in front of his eyes now, sitting at a nicely set table with delicious food cooked by Adam’s mother, laughing with those two strangers about the things they had done together during the day, while he and Sam had gotten by eating SpaghettiOs again, huddled together under a nice warm blanket because the heater had failed.

»No, Dean, that's not how it was, I promise you, I-«

»You forgot about us!« Dean shouted again and this time he was very aware not only how much his voice was shaking and cracking but of the hot tears streaming down his face. »You didn't care about us! You spent your time with that kid instead of us! Just admit that we are a burden to you for once! Just admit that you can't look at us without seeing Mom’s death again and again! You wanted to forget about us when you’re there!«

Before his next shove could indeed knock his father from his feet, John suddenly went in on the attack and before Dean knew it, he was pulled into an almost bone-crushing hug as his father wrapped both arms so tightly around him that he almost lifted him off the ground doing so. His left arm hurt like hell as his father did that and his head was throbbing in pain. He felt as if he was being held in a straight jacket and still he kept struggling until there was no strength left in him to struggle anymore.

He wanted to yell at him. He wanted to tell his father how much he hated him. The thing was, however, he didn't hate his father. Despite everything, his father had done wrong in the past. Despite everything his father had done to him. He didn't hate him. He couldn't hate him. No matter how he would beat him down or berate him, Dean loved his father.

Maybe that was worse. Hating his father would have been so much easier than loving him.

 

**-End of Chapter 10-**


	11. Chapter 11

Dean wasn't too sure if his father had known how his younger son would react to him bearing the news of a third brother. He didn't even know if his father had known what he was bargaining for as he had decided to tell Sammy. Had he hoped that, if he would tell Dean first, his oldest son would maybe help him deliver that news and calm down Sam? Well, knowing his father, he probably had thought just that before he had talked to Dean about Adam.

Adam.

Hell, he still wasn't too sure if he really understood all of this - or if he wanted to understand all of this. He had another little brother. Someone else he had to take care of. That was the first thing coming to his mind after he had calmed down just a little from his outburst in the forest. A part of him felt embarrassed. He had walked back to Bobby’s house with his father by his side, red-cheeked and exhausted from crying. Now that he thought about it, he didn't even know when he had last cried in his father’s presence. Crying simply had never been an option no matter how bad he had been feeling, no matter how hurt he had been or how much he would have needed a shoulder to lean onto. Crying was something for girls and boys like Sam who were just naturally very emotional. Crying was nothing for a real man or a soldier and he had always known that his father saw just that in him - a soldier, someone he could shape in his own image but that was it.

And yet he had bawled his eyes out and for once in his life, he hadn't even cared about his father's reaction to it. He had been hurt and felt betrayed and he had wanted his father to know it, wanted him to feel the depth of his hurt for once. He wasn't sure that his father would ever understand though. Still, right in that moment, to Dean, it had been as if the hurt of years had fallen off his shoulders right at that very moment.

Apparently, he had still looked like utter shit as they had walked back into the house because the moment his little brother had seen him, Sam had come flying towards him to crush him into one of his famous hugs. If Sam would keep growing like he did, not only would he become a lot taller than Dean but he would also break bones hugging people. And of course, Sam would not be Sam would he not immediately ask what had happened that Dean looked so weird. At least to Bobby, it seemed to have been obvious that he had cried.

That was when all hell started to break loose.

Had his father been overwhelmed by Dean’s reaction to this whole thing, then he had no idea what storm would hit him when Sam would learn the truth. But for once, Dean just sat down on Bobby’s comfortable sofa beside his little brother, leaned back and decided to enjoy the show. This was, for once, not his battle to fight.

Sam was more livid than he would feel betrayed and that was probably the main difference between them. Sam really didn't give a crap about their dad that much. It wasn't like Sam would hate their father, quite the opposite actually, but he was so used to feeling left alone and betrayed by John that he didn't seem to expect anything else anymore. But now, learning of another brother, he was fuming with anger and, yes, jealousy.

And Dean had expected nothing less of his little brother as he had gone into the attack like a pit bull defending his toy. Needless to say, Sam’s tantrum and the storm of insults and accusations towards their father had gone on for quite some time and only ended as John removed himself from the house for a while to give Sammy time to cool down a bit.

It was also needless to say, that Sam had moved extra close that night in their shared bed at Bobby’s place. Only as they had been alone, Sam cried in earnest and not tears of resentment and anger towards their dad. No, those tears were of utter hurt and Dean had nothing left to give then a hug and a comforting little hum as he held Sam that night.

As next morning came, Sam was still furious and Dean tired out of his mind.

»I want to meet him.« Sam finally mumbled from his place on the floor where he had been sitting to do his homework for the last half hour. Dean, taken a bit by surprise, lowered his own history book to look at Sam. Not that he would have really gathered the information his teacher wanted anyway. He just couldn't focus and it was Sunday, so why should he focus? If he wouldn't be able to do his homework today, he would just look at Miss McKenzie with his most pitiful face and say something about how his head had hurt the entire weekend.

»Who?« He replied in a low murmur.

»Adam.«

»Are you sure?«

»I want to see what the deal’s about. Don't you?«

Yes, well, did he? He didn't quite know if he really wanted to meet this boy now that he thought about it for the first time. He just didn't know. Adam, that boy in the photo, was still only a vague idea to him and though he had seen his picture, seeing him face to face would make it real. Maybe he wanted to keep acting as if he wasn't real. Maybe he wanted to keep acting as if all of this was just some cruel trick of his father to get him to behave better in the future. Yet, he was very well aware that Adam was indeed quite real and out there somewhere, waiting to meet his brothers perhaps even.

»Yes … I think I do.« Dean replied although that was not at all how he felt but it was what Sam wanted to hear because would Dean claim that he really didn't want to meet Adam, Sam wouldn't want to meet that little boy either.  Sam only did what Dean would do and he didn't want Sam to feel bad because he wanted to get to know their brother while Dean didn't. Sam would feel like he was betraying Dean and although Sam was only eleven years old, his loyalty to Dean was uncanny. There was no question about it. He would act as if Adam wouldn't exist if he thought that Dean would be hurt by just acknowledging his existence. Of course, that was nonsense, but Sammy was too young to understand that.

»We should tell Dad then, I guess.« Sam sighed and Dean rose from his spot without thinking twice about it.

»I guess that’s my job.« He found himself smirking although they both couldn't deny the truth behind his words. Yes, the uncomfortable stuff was always Dean’s job. »You just focus on your homework, okay?«

»Sure will.« Sam could be the most well-behaved little brother of all times when he wanted something even if that something was just to make his big brother feel better. He wondered how Adam might be though. Was he just like Sam in that regard or was he completely different? He knew nothing about monsters and the things lurking in the shadows and a part of him, as he left the living room and a moment later the house to go look for his dad, would want to keep it that way.

However, that was the very same part of him that wanted to not meet the boy - not just because he wouldn't just want to meet him but because meeting him might lead to Adam getting in danger. He was a big brother. Not just _Sam’s_ big brother now anymore, but a big brother in the sense that he wanted to protect Adam too. Yes, he didn't know that child and yes, he didn't even know if he would like that child, but he was Adam’s big brother whether he liked it or not and that meant for him to protect that little garden gnome.

He found his father outside, working at one of the cars with Bobby, smudges of oil on his face. Only as he saw Dean approaching his face fell again and he looked very much like a beaten dog all of the sudden. It was _odd,_ to say the least. »Hey, Dean!« Bobby smiled as he turned around to follow John's eyes. »How are you, Buddy?« At least Bobby was still normal in the way he was treating Dean. Then again, Bobby had done nothing wrong.

Dean was aware that Bobby had known about Adam before he and Sam had, of course. He hadn't needed him to tell him that yesterday or to tell him that Bobby was the reason why John had spilled the beans in the first place. Dean knew.

Dean just shrugged with his good shoulder and decided to kill some time in just looking at the car, an old mustang, gently drumming his fingers against the silver hud as he came to a halt next to the car. What a beauty. Hell, Dean loved old cars. Would his arm be of any use he would love to help them fix her. »I'm fine.« He mumbled and avoided looking at his dad although he was very well aware that he was not going to avoid him forever. Despite his father’s promises, Dean was aware that he would spend the next years of his life confined into a tight space with his dad driving from state to state. »Sammy … He said he wants to meet Adam.« He then addressed his father while still avoiding to look at him.

There was a moment of silence between the three of them but it was Bobby who decided to speak up next as both Winchester men did not seem too keen on speaking again. »You sure about that?«

»Yeah…« Dean shrugged once more although, _no_ , he was not at all sure about that. » I mean … Why not, right? He’s our little brother. And Sammy … Well, he will certainly not give up on that whole thing in the near future so we might as well just get it over with right? Now that Sam knows he will not give up until he meets Adam, anyway and we all know that.«

At least on that they could all agree as it seemed, for his father just nodded absentmindedly and scratched his jaw with his dirty hands leaving quite obvious marks with the oil and dirt on his fingers. »Okay« He muttered quietly. »If that's what you guys want, I’ll call Kate and set up a meeting.«

»You almost sound as if Adam is a ghoul or something, Dad.« Dean tried to humor the situation a little bit at least. »I bet it will go over just fine.« How bad could it be, really? Then again, knowing Sammy … It could get pretty nasty, he assumed.

On the day of the meeting with Adam, Dean had never been more nervous as he realized sitting in the passenger’s seat of the Impala, driving through snow-covered landscapes. Sam sat in the backseat and tried to act busy as he was reading his new book that he had gotten from Bobby a few days ago. Every once in a while, Dean shot a glance back to Sam to find him reading. Only Dean could tell that he wasn't really reading but he wasn't going to pester his brother about it either. If that was Sam’s way to deal with his nervousness, then so be it. And nervous he was. Dean could tell by the way he was setting his jaw and tensing up his shoulders. He knew his little brother like the back of his hand, after all.

Windom in Minnesota was a quiet, nice little town and so was the neighborhood Adam and his mother, _the Milligans_ , as the little sign on their postbox said, lived in. Dean remembered that they used to have a postbox similar to this too back in Lawrence but he doubted that they would ever have one again. To him, the thought of having such a clean and nice little post box spelling out _the Winchesters_ , seemed odd even.

The house was not very big, just large enough for Kate and her son. After all, she was a nurse and probably didn't even make that much money, to begin with. Dean couldn't help but find himself wondering just how much his dad was helping her financially and if that was the reason why he and Sammy sometimes had had barely enough money to go a whole week when their dad would leave them. Those were the things he was pondering about as the car stopped on the street in front of the Milligan’s house. Had his dad been paying for this house, maybe? Had he paid for it so that his youngest son had a nice home to grow up in? He shouldn't bother himself with jealous thoughts like these and he knew that it was not healthy to do that anyway but he couldn't shake off those thoughts either.

»Dean?« He hadn't even noticed how his dad and Sam got out of the car. Only as his father opened his door to help him out as he did ever since Dean came back from the hospital as if he had hurt his leg and not his arm and head, did Dean realize that he had been sitting like this for quite some time just staring at the house and it's nicely blue painted window shutters or it's tidy front yard.

»Coming.« Dean muttered as he reluctantly accepted his father's helping hand to get out of the car and slowly straightened out his limbs after sitting in this car for such a long time. It was still early in the day and they had left before dawn so that they would have a bit more time to spend with their little brother. Apparently, his father was hoping that Sam and Dean would like that little bundle of joy enough to even want to spend time with him.

It was Sam who grabbed his uninjured hand as they stood in front of the house and although that was not too uncharacteristic for Sam, it was odd. He had stopped holding Dean's hand as he had turned nine, which had been a bummer to Dean if he was honest. Well, they were both very tactile persons especially when faced with an uncertain situation like this. Still, Dean flashed his brother a small, almost teasing little smirk and started following his dad up to the front porch of the house, his brother still clinging to his hand on the way. Before his father could even walk up the front porch and reach the door, however, the front door was opened from the inside.

Almost, Dean had expected to see his little brother throwing himself into John's arms just now, laughing happily to see his daddy, however, there was a woman standing in the doorway after she opened the front door and waited for his father to reach her. Apparently, his father had a thing for blondes, a more cynical part of his brain offered as Dean found himself stopping just shortly now. Kate Milligan was a beautiful woman without a doubt. She wore her long blonde hair in a loose ponytail and wore clothes that looked so casually and yet made her so attractive at the same time that to Dean it was clear that she was trying to look a certain way with that choice of style. Was this a way to try and appeal to them? A sort of mom-style that should lure them in? It was obvious that she tried to look as if she was not paying too much attention to her looks and yet it was also very obvious that she had put a lot of thoughts into it. Her style almost screamed marriage-material just like her wide and welcoming smile as she greeted his father with a hug that was too obviously friendly in a way friends would share and too strictly not that of former lovers.

»John!« She smiled as she let go of him again. Dean had noticed the way his father could easily lift her off the ground while returning the hug. He used to do that with their mom too. Dean still remembered how his dad would sometimes have come home, pulled his mother into a tight hug that pulled her off her feet and just gently whirled her around for a second. Sometimes he had done the same with Dean and Dean remembered how he had laughed when his father did this to him and how safe he had felt in his father's strong arms in those moments. He missed feeling that way. »Did you have a good journey?« She asked, her hands still on his shoulders and her voice cheerful. Dean couldn't hear what his dad was replying as he suddenly grew very aware how tightly his little brother was gripping him.

»So that must be your boys then, right?« As Dean pulled his eyes from Sam to look back to his father and Kate who looked way too familiar with one another, he had a hard time not to clench his jaw too visibly.

»Yeah« His father replied and motioned for them to finally join them on the front porch now. Dean only slowly began moving again, almost dragging Sam behind now. »The big one is Dean.« His dad replied with a smile that could have been called proud if Dean wouldn't know better. »And that little imp over there is Sam.«

Dean couldn't bring himself to talk as he was clenching his teeth now. His jaw felt like it was stuck. He only nodded curtly as a sign of greeting but Kate didn't really seem to care. »Oh, Dean, Sweetheart!« She suddenly exclaimed as she removed her hands from his dad to step closer to them now. »Your dad told me what happened, Honey. I'm glad to see that you are better now. How is your head? I bet your head is pounding after such a long drive, Dear. Sioux Falls is not right around the corner after all. Come on in, you boys, I’ll give you something for your pain.« She was way too nice and Dean didn't like it. He didn't like the pet names either. Sure thing, his mother had used pet names for him too but that was different. His mother had mostly called him _Pumpkin_ or _My little Angel_ anyway and his father had always stuck to Dean-o.

Yet, Dean followed her inside still with Sam at his hand and his father following shortly after them. The house was nice even from the inside. It was clear that they were not living in riches, of course, but it was more than Dean and Sam ever had in the past almost twelve years. The house was tidy and clean, with nicely white painted walls. No bloodstains covering the carpet or floorboards, no obscure stains on the walls. Just framed photos of the family decorating the way into the living room where Kate was leading them. Until now, there was no sign of Adam other than the photos strewn all over the walls. It was quite clear that Adam was the apple of his mother's eye. In that regard, Kate was almost a sympathetic character, he guessed. His mother too had spoiled him rotten before Sammy had come along. Still, a part of him wondered why Kate still seemed to be unmarried even after Adam was already five. Sure, it was probably not easy for a single mom to find a nice guy but it wasn't impossible either as far as Dean could tell. She was pretty too. Surely she had interested men in her life.

Maybe she was still waiting for his dad, though. This was, sadly, a possibility that Dean could not just mindlessly ignore despite how much he would want to do just that.

»Feel right at home, boys, while I get you something for your pain, Dean.« She smiled again motioning to the comfortable looking couch. »John, would you go and get Adam? He is upstairs. He has troubles with his crutches and was too afraid to come down already.« She almost laughed at the last part and even his father smirked as if that was some kind of inside joke between them.

»No problem, I’ll go get him.«

It took another ushering from Kate for Sam and Dean to sit down on the couch reluctantly after their father had left them to walk up the stairs, and as they did, they only shared one small glance until Dean noticed the framed photo right beside him on a small side table. It had a quite fancy looking frame that was usually reserved for important memories and showed his father and Kate in a tight embrace. He hadn't seen his father smile as widely as on this photo for quite a long time and he couldn't deny that it did in fact hurt. They looked like a perfectly happy couple on this photo and Dean could only wonder how much truth was in his father's words. Or was this just wishful thinking on Kate’s part? Was she trying to get his dad to remember those good old times in having that photo out on display like this? He wasn't sure what to think anymore.

Only one thing was certain. Dean couldn't even sit still on that couch any longer. He raised to his feet again as he heard Kate rummage through the kitchen by the sounds of it, and strolled over to the fireplace. On the mantelpiece were a lot more photos set up for nosy people to look at. Most of them showed various friends and probably family members, some of them showed just Adam and his mom, and just two of them showed his dad with Adam. The first one had Adam still as a baby in John’s arms, the second showed them during a visit to a baseball game.

When had his father taken him and Sammy to a baseball match the last time? Oh right - He never had. Adam, however, had gotten all of that as it appeared now. He had gotten a dad. Sure, a weekend dad every few months, but a dad. »Everything alright?« It was the first time his brother spoke since they got into the car this morning and only as he turned around and saw how Sam was motioning to his right hand did Dean notice that he had balled it into a tight fist.

»Yeah … Sure.« He replied and only slowly walked back to Sam to sit down next to him just in time for Kate to come back with a glass of water and a pill. She handed him both and for a second there, Dean wanted to tell her that he wasn't allowed to accept anything from strangers. However, she was right. His head and his left arm were pounding, so he swallowed the pill like a man and drank the water in one big swipe. »Thank you.« He muttered as he handed back the glass and she just smiled at him as if they had had the biggest bonding moment in history just now. Hell, he hated that face already - that mask of motherly affection and friendliness that seemed so fake to him now.

Having those photos of his father up inside the living room suddenly seemed taunting to Dean, as if mocking him and Sam, mocking even their mother. He knew that this was bullshit, of course, and yet, hell, that was just how he felt.

»I’m so glad that I finally get to know you, Boys.« Kate smiled as she sat down right in front of them on the coffee table, Dean’s empty glass still in both hands as she leaned forward ever so slightly.

»Yeah?« Sam finally spoke up for the first time in her presence and Dean could sense that his brother was buying none of that bullshit either. »Dad told us he never told you about us before - only after you called him and made him come out here while Dean was in the hospital.«

Her cheeks turned pink rapidly but she tried to cover up her embarrassment quickly with a small smile. »I'm sorry for calling your dad and demanding him to come, Sammy.«

»Only Dean gets to call me that. It's Sam.«

Again her cheeks turned pink and Dean wanted nothing more than lean back and enjoy the show, even though he was aware that it was his job to scold Sammy. Well, he couldn't bring him to do that. Sam was angry and there was nothing wrong with being angry and bitter, he assumed. His brother was entitled to his feelings and he was the one having to deal with them too. However, his little brother had eaten up the sass with a spoon as he had been little, apparently, and now it all showed.  »Anyway. I’m sorry, _Sam_. You are right, I didn't know about you boys until that day and had I known about you and had I known about Dean's condition, I wouldn't have called in the first place, that I can promise you. I told your dad that too in the meanwhile. However, ever since Adam and I learned about your existence, we just wanted to meet you boys. You are family, after all. And I just want you to know that, whatever may happen, you will always be welcome here, okay? You can always come to this house if you need to.«

Dean could see just by the way Sam was furrowing his brows that he wanted to say something very rude, so, he placed his uninjured hand on Sam’s shoulder to calm him down for now because he already heard his father and Adam on the stairs. »We appreciate that.« Dean replied as curtly as he could. »That's very nice of you to offer.« Even though he didn't like it one bit. Now, however, was not the moment to fight with that woman. Now was not the time for war but for peace - and Dean Winchester did not like it one bit.

The steps descending the staircase almost sounded like a dangerous storm approaching to him now but before he could flee the situation, his father had already appeared in the living room and sat down the little boy Adam by the living room door and handed him his crutches. Adam ducked behind their father as he suddenly seemed to grow aware of his two older brothers in the room and as Dean looked over his shoulder and at his father, he could see that unmistakable twitch of his left eyebrow that usually prompted Dean into action and so he rose from his spot to slowly walk around the couch and over to his father and Adam.

Hell, that boy was little.

He hardly reached up all the way to Dean’s hips now, and so he slowly crouched down to his level before his father until John gently shoved Adam in front of him so that he would finally meet his brother face to face. »Hey, Adam.« He mumbled quietly as he met the blue eyes of his little brother. Adam looked exactly like in the photo. Small, pale, with faint freckles on the bridge of his nose just like Dean and those blue eyes that were so different from his and Sam’s and entirely his mother's. His father did not seem to have the luck that at least one of his sons really looked like him.

Adam was actually not a shy kid as he and Sam, later on, had to learn during the day. After he had warmed up to them a bit, it took him no less than an hour to show them every toy he possessed and Dean decided that they just had to grin and bear it because that was just their job as older brothers and now Sammy had to learn what that meant too. The boy was not at fault, after all. He had no idea how his older brothers had grown up and that they could have only wished for all these toys. It wasn't Adam's  fault and even Sam seemed to understand that. Adam, just like them, had not decided anything in all of this. He had not decided to be born into this strange family. That poor kid had to deal with their insanity from now on.

And so, since Adam had to deal with them in his up until now quite peaceful life, the least Sam and Dean could do was to play with his legos with him or frequent the neighboring playground for a little while.

»Do you think we should tell him?« Sam later asked. The day had turned to night so quickly that they had decided to stay overnight after Kate had prepared dinner for all of them. Dean, as a sign of peace and his good will, had even helped her prepare it. He was the good oldest son, after all. He couldn't do much with just one hand but there were things he could do. His father was sleeping in the guest bedroom while he and Sammy were sharing the couch in the living room. It was an extensible. Huh. Who would have thought? At least the couch was more comfortable than most motel beds they had slept in.

»Tell him what?« Dean asked quietly into the darkness. It was weird lying in this strange house with all those photos watching over them.

»About the monsters of course.«

»No … No, I don't think we should.«

»Why not? He could become a hunter like us.«

»Yeah … But … Honestly Sam … Do you want that? Hell, if I could have prevented you from ever getting involved into all that crap, I would have tried. Let him be a normal child, I’d say.«

»And why does he get to be a normal child and we don't?«

»Because life isn't fair, Sam.« Dean sighed as he turned on his back to look at the ceiling through the darkness. He didn't like talking like this - not to Sammy. This was something his father would say. This was nothing he would say to Sammy under normal circumstances. He didn't want his brother to lose hope that life might get better someday, but it was the truth. Life wasn't fair. If life would be fair they would not move from motel to motel and state to state to hunt down monsters. If life would be fair, they too would still have a loving and doting mother and not just some alcoholic dad and their not even related Uncle Bobby. »But who knows, right? Maybe we will tell him someday. Maybe we will become a trio of hunting brothers one day.«

»I think I would like that.« Well, that was a surprise indeed - However, his little brother had always been good in surprising him, he supposed and unlike Dean, Sam had always been a people person.

»You would?« He asked quietly in the darkness as he heard and felt Sam shift next to him.

»Yeah. That would be nice. But until then … I think Adam should enjoy his normal life.« Dean couldn't deny that, as he finally closed his eyes that night and tried to find sleep, he was proud of his little brother.

※※※※※※※

The night hung low above the ground as they walked across the lonely graveyard a little out of town behind the abandoned church. A thin veil of fog was lying over the old and forgotten graves. James L. Thompson was buried at the north wall of the old church graveyard, where the people that committed suicide and the murderers lay. Out here, no one would care for what happened to the graves or their inhabitants.

It was just him and his father and it was good this way. Only them and the shovels that they were carrying over their shoulders. His father had a can of gasoline and a pack of salt in the duffel bag that he was carrying under his other arm. Dean was still not fully functioning yet but it was enough to dig. Slowly.

Of course, his father was doing most of the work as they found the grave that they had been looking for but he wasn't scolding him for being so useless in that regard. He would have scolded him under different circumstances. Before his coma, he would have scolded him and kicked him to dig harder and faster but now he didn't. Now he just dug with him and didn't say anything until they hit something hard. Dean needed help to climb out of that grave before they could open the old coffin.

It wasn't the first time that he saw a body, even a body as badly rotten and decayed as this. This was nothing new and yet those bodies and skeletons had filled his nightmares years ago. Somehow this time all of this was different. It felt different, at least. It didn't feel quite so real as he had expected it to feel while he thought about it before. He was just staring down at that body, surrounded by a field of long forgotten bones. He wasn't quite sure what to think about all of this. This skeleton, those few bones and rotten pieces of fabric, didn't look like the ghost that had attacked him. It looked creepy, yes, but not nearly as menacing as he remembered that ghost to look like.

»Here we are, the end of the road, Son.« His father's voice ripped him from his thoughts and almost made him stumble a little. Only then did Dean grow aware of how his father handed him his lighter before he strewed the salt over the body and marinated it in gasoline. »You ready to end this chapter in this story, Dean?«

Was he?

He didn't quite know if he was ready to end this. He didn't feel ready. If he would slam this book shut now, what was waiting for him around the next corner? More of the same? Something entirely new? Something worse than happened already in his life? Something better? He didn't know. He couldn't know. It was impossible to know. Was he afraid to close this book? Yes. Yes, he was afraid. That was the truth and yet he knew that he had no other choice than nodding and lighting the flame.

He needed three tries to light the flame of the lighter before he threw it into the grave the same way he had seen his father do numerous times before. As the bones started to burn there was nothing that happened. No sound, no choir of angels, no gush of wind, no sign that it had worked only the knowledge that it had worked and the distinct feeling that a veil had been lifted, as if some unnamed ballast had been lifted off his shoulders of which he wasn't even aware he had felt until now. The next thing he knew was the hand resting on his right shoulder, though.

»I’m proud of you, Dean.« The words were almost like a dream. or at least in the past, they would have been.

»That was no big deal, Dad. Just some little ghost.«

»No, I don't mean the ghost - Not just the ghost. I mean everything, Dean. Everything you ever did for me and Sammy and how you dealt with Adam. I have to thank you for that, Dean. You could have acted differently too. You could have turned him down and showed him resentment. But you didn't. You were the bigger person, you were a good son.« A good son. This was everything he had ever longed to hear in the past and now that he got to hear it, he didn't know if he wanted it any longer.

Still, he found himself smiling a half smile and watched how his father pulled off his old dark brown leather jacket despite how cold it was. It was February by now, Valentine's day was right around the corner. Kate had invited them over for Valentine's day and Dean was afraid that his father would want to go. He still didn't know what to make of his new family. He liked his little brother Adam. He had a similar temper as Dean and Sam and Dean could already see some deep-seated anger in his blue eyes. He was still much too young to understand that anger though and maybe it would never show itself in the way it had shown for Dean when it first started. Nevertheless, Dean was certain that Adam was just as cursed as the rest of their family and that nothing good would ever come from this union.

For a moment, his father just looked at his old jacket in the light of the flames as if he was seeing it for the first time. And as if this was some kind of ritual that would introduce Dean into adulthood now, he could only watch as his father laid the jacket on his shoulders.

»I wanted to give you this jacket someday.« His father explained his actions. His eyes looked moist but Dean was sure that it only came from the smoke. Despite his words, despite everything, a part of Dean, the part who remembered his life up until that point, knew that his father was not even capable of feeling emotions so deeply rooted that he tried to express. No, this part of his father's personality had died with his mother and every time he tried to act this way, it was just that, an _act_ , the memory of how things used to be, of when he still had a heart, perhaps, of when he had not regretted ever marrying Mary Campbell, of when he had still loved him and Sam. »And I figured … Now was as good a time as any other, right?«

Every time his father made up for something with words he spoke or things he did, every time Dean felt as if there was still hope lying in his future that he would maybe get back his father at one point, his father would destroy all of that with one of those stupid little comments. He didn't think about it. Maybe he wasn't aware of it and Dean was the last person on earth to tell him. He wasn't interested in telling him. Instead, he lowered his gaze a little. »Thank you, Dad.« He replied with a smile just convincingly enough for his dad to buy it.

If this would have been a story, some piece of art, they would have hugged it out right now and here in front of that burning grave and he would have forgiven his father for beating him to a bloody pulp just because he had kissed another boy, he would have forgiven him for destroying and robbing him of his childhood, for making him put Sam first before everything else in his life. However, this was no story and no piece of art and his father's gentle words had no meaning behind them. He knew that now. Waking up from that coma had been like waking up for the first time in his life for real as if for the first time in his sixteen years long life was he able to see the world and his father for what they were. And now that his eyes were open and now that he could see, there was no way of turning a blind eye again. He was doomed to accept the world as it was.

Maybe that was a good thing. No more guardian angels watching over him. No more things he could tell himself just to feel a little better. He didn't need angels to watch over him anyway and neither did Sam. He was the one watching over Sam and that needed to be enough. And he ... Well, he was sixteen years old now and almost an adult. Now, he could see his life clearly in front of him and the path he would take.

He would drop out of school this upcoming summer and then he would start becoming a proper hunter together with his father. That was the path he was going to take. And Sam would leave him. He had always known that Sam wanted to go to college and Dean would help him along the way. Yes, he would be hurt and feel betrayed when the day would come, but he wanted his brother to thrive. And that Sam would. Adam too. They would both leave him behind to lead a better life and that was what Dean would leave behind in this world when his time would come.

Maybe that was enough.

As his father closed one arm around his shoulders, his leather jacket still around Dean's narrow shoulders and led him back to the exit and the Impala, he could see everything play out right in front of him and for the first time in his life, Dean wished that there really were no such thing as God or Angels because if he would ever come across one of those feathery bastards, he would rip them apart.

 

**-End of Chapter 11-**


	12. Epilog

He was a soldier and that was all there was to him. He was an angel, canon futter for God’s endless holy wars against all evil in this world he created. He had been brought up knowing that and he had never cared too much about that this was everything he was ever going to be like so many other angels that came before him or would follow after him. If it was God's will and plan that he, Castiel, was only one of the many angels that were soldiers in his army, then, he believed that it was the right decision. Who was he to question God, after all? Sometimes he felt that there were parts of him missing, as crazy as that might sound and yes, he was aware that this sounded in fact quite crazy. He could remember most of his long life. He remembered standing at a beach on earth with one of his older brothers holding his hand, but some things seemed hidden from him when he tried to remember them. However, he had to function as a soldier and it was not on him to ask questions of that nature. The only reason for his existence was to follow the orders that were given to him by his higher-ups.

So, as the order had come to go down to earth to watch over a pregnant woman as she went into labor before term, he had followed that order. Yes, he had questioned it at first because angels did not tend to get involved too much in human lives but as he had been told that this woman was Mary Winchester and that it was Dean Winchester who was going to be born that very night, he had not questioned it any further. The order was clear. His only job had been to make sure that Michael's vessel would be born without a single flaw. Yet, he had not been allowed to interfere too much and so, he had watched over Mary Winchester after she had been writhing in pain for fifteen hours straight already. There had been great concern lingering in the air as he had arrived, passing by a tired looking John Winchester on the hallway just outside that delivery room and Castiel had heard every word that had been spoken in hushed voices, had drank up every bit of worry he felt oozing from the nurses and doctors inside the room. All he had been able to do was to whisper words of encouragement into the ears of those people.

It had not been an easy birth but Mary Winchester had been a trooper and yet there was nothing in her power that could have prevented the umbilical cord to wrap around her son’s throat. Castiel had stood by her side and rested, invisible for everyone in the room, his hand on her stomach. He wasn't allowed to do much more than this, but what he could do he did to ensure the survival of Michael’s vessel. He gave the doctors more time to free Dean Winchester from his predicament so that they could deliver him safely to this cruel world and as Michael’s vessel took his first breath, Castiel went over to the nurses who were cleaning up that little pink bundle. He was a weird, tiny thing, scrunched up like a raisin and utterly unhappy with his fate already, tiny fists balled - a true fighter right from the start. However, he was in one piece and, as Castiel lingered a little longer, he saw that Dean Winchester was flawless.

※※※※※※※

Castiel was no guardian angel and he had never aspired to be one. He had always been contempt with his life as a soldier because that was what he was good at. He was respected by his fellow angels of the garrison. He was a good fighter, a perfect soldier and there was rarely any conflicting thoughts in his head because he knew what would happen to him would he feel the seed of curiosity grow inside his mind. He had seen what would happen before. God's word was law and as long as he would follow that, he could not be wrong and he could never fall into the risk of being marked a rebel.

Yet, he found himself on earth again. And again, he had been sent to watch over the Winchesters - over Dean Winchester. And that he did. No one had ever told him for how long he was meant to watch over Dean, but he knew that he would be called back to Heaven if needed. At first, watching over that pink little creature had been a nuisance but soon, only a few months after he had been sent down here, Castiel had found himself in awe of that exact plump little pink creature as Dean Winchester had suddenly pushed himself to his chubby little arms and legs to try and crawl towards his mother as she had put her back to her baby boy on the carpet in the living room to pick up the phone as it rang. Castiel had known that it was John, her husband, even before she had known.

Dean’s first try of crawling had been a complete and utter failure and too quickly passed as that his mother could have witnessed it - but Castiel had and somehow it had filled him with a certain sense of pride. He, unlike Dean or his parents, already knew what was lying in front of this baby and Dean, as if he would know too, was already making attempts of getting stronger and stronger each day. Soon, there was nothing left of that fragile little baby he had seen in the delivery room anymore.

As if caught in a time lapse, Castiel had witnessed Dean’s first proper crawling attempt, his first steps, his first word, the first time he had been using his potty successfully. Every night since the day he had been sent down here to watch over that weak little creature, Castiel had hovered next to Dean’s bed and watched over his sleep, watching quietly how the little human grew into a bigger little human each day. He watched how his thick golden hair grew into full locks like his mother's, how his eyes changed color from blue to green, how he got his first teeth and how he outgrew his clothes every other month. He watched him learn and grow and understand and soon, he had been able to see that, yes, this boy had indeed the spirit of a fighter, but that he, more importantly, was in possession of a big and gentle heart.

He had witnessed Dean Winchester comforting his mother after a fight with her husband, watched how he would sit beside her to help her fold the laundry as his mother had been highly pregnant with his little brother. And, as Sam Winchester had been born, Castiel had been by Dean’s side too and the joy in those green eyes had pained him because unannounced to Dean, he was meant to kill that little brother of his whom he already so dearly loved before ever seeing him for the first time. Theirs was very much a story like those of Cain and his brother Abel and yet, a part of him already knew that Dean Winchester would never be able to kill his own brother.  It was cruel and yet it was how it was meant to be and Castiel would not dare to question his father’s decision at this point.

Castiel remained by Dean’s side ever since. He was witness to how loving that little boy was towards his brother and his mother, to how much he hero-worshipped his father who already started to fall out of love with his wife now that their heavenly duty had been done, now that they had fulfilled their destiny. He was there, as John Winchester gave Sam to his four-year-old boy and told him to get out of that burning house and he saw the spark that was ignited in Dean Winchester in that very moment. Only then he decided to go against the orders of his higher-ups and return to heaven to report the incident. He was sent back without much concern but it was this spark in Dean's heart that, in Castiel's eyes, endangered the whole thing because, in that moment, Dean Winchester became more than Sam Winchester's older brother. Henceforth, Dean became Sam’s very own guardian angel and he took his job very seriously.

However, Castiel stayed at Dean's side from then on. He was not allowed to interfere. He was only there to watch and make sure that Dean wouldn't die before his time. And he had to watch how John Winchester lost himself to alcohol and his research about demons and everything occult after his eyes had been opened by that psychic. He had to witness how those boys were dragged from motel to motel, state to state and how Dean became the parent his baby brother needed. He bore witness to how unhealthy their relationship became and how much they started to get dependent on one another. Dean couldn't go about life without Sam and Sam couldn't go about life without Dean. He watched how Dean grew up too fast and became a father, and then a mother, instead of a brother to Sam.

And Castiel … He wanted to do nothing more than to scream in John Winchester's face and tell him to get his act together and be a father to his two sons for once in his miserable life. But he couldn't. He just couldn't do it. He wasn't meant to do it. He was meant to keep watch, to protect this boy from dying but that was about it.

Castiel was there as John Winchester rose his hand against Dean for the first time. The boy was only five years old and desperate because he couldn't get his baby brother to calm down as he was suffering from a fever. Sam was a strong child from the start and yet, in Dean’s eyes, he seemed to be the most fragile little thing God had ever created. The moment John Winchester hit Dean for the very first time, Castiel had almost forgotten what his orders were and that feeling of anger swelling up inside of him had never left him as he had settled down on the chair close to the bed that Dean was sharing with his father while Dean cried himself to sleep that night.

Castiel was there when John Winchester forgot his oldest son in the bathtub only a few months later too. He had been watching over those two little boys, pleased to see that for once, John Winchester seemed to have decided to be a decent human being and actually take good care of his boys. John was not the best father for sure. He was a terrible cook as far as Castiel could tell from Dean’s facial expressions - which he could read quite easily after all those years - when he would eat anything his father had made himself, but at least he tried. Since that slap, John had tried his best to be there for his boys, to be a father for once and had not left everything to Dean. This night, however, that was going to change again and neither Sam, nor Dean, nor Castiel had realized it while Castiel had watched the two brothers play in the bathtub together. For once, they had looked like normal siblings. Dean’s laughter had been pure and happy and Sam had been perfectly content in his big brother’s presence while playing with Dean’s toys. Already, Dean was proving to be a selfless individual, someone who gave to others without expecting something in return, someone who liked to help just for the sake of seeing others smile. They had chosen Michael’s vessel wisely. Dean Winchester possessed one of the purest souls that Castiel had ever seen and a part of him was afraid that Michael would corrupt that very soul one day.

He watched over them, invisible, with a smile on his face even as John came back into the room to collect Sam and told Dean that he had five more minutes left. He watched as Dean looked at the half-open bathroom door as he listened to his father talking on the phone. He watched as the front door fell shut and as Dean realized that his dad had left. He watched and waited with Dean, not moving for hours and hours. He watched him fall asleep in the tub and took care that no harm came to him from that. Castiel left only for a few seconds, looking for John, making sure the inexperienced hunter was still alive and not lying in a pool of his own blood on the parking lot and as he came back, he watched Dean sit down in that tub again, shaking, shivering and crying. And as he could see how realization struck had little five-year-old boy that his father had forgotten about him, he couldn't do much to ease that pain and make it all more bearable. All he could do was put his hand on Dean's tiny shoulder, not sure if that boy would even know he was there.

Castiel stayed with him the entire night, watching as John finally came back and realized what he had done, watching how John put Dean to bed without even apologizing, watching how that tiny boy curled in on himself in that bed with his father. He stayed by his side, watching over him closely. Castiel had never been to earth before for such a long time and he didn't quite understand the human nature to this day and yet, he felt that he could understand the heartbreak and pain that this little boy was suffering from. It was almost as pure as his soul was.

Castiel was there, years later, as Bobby Singer arrived at some greasy motel in the middle of nowhere to pick up those two children aged six and ten. He had watched Dean become the only responsible person in this entire household within just five years and how Dean was making sure his brother would do his homework while he was doing all the chores. He had watched him struggle in school, watched how he had shed tears of frustration trying to read out loud in class, stammering away each sentence, unable to do it. And he had watched how Dean became the compassionate person he ought to be later in his life. He had watched how this boy cared for his drunkard father who would hit him for no reason in return. He had watched him comfort his dad in such an honest and loving manner that it would melt the heart of any demon.

However, Castiel was also there the night that John Winchester decided to beat up his oldest son just for being a teenager, just for wanting to do something with a friend for once and not looking after Sam. He was there as Dean got attacked in that dirty alleyway in the bad part of town because he had been too scared of his father as to return home right away. In that moment, as he realized what was about to happen to that fourteen-year-old boy and that there was no one who would come to Dean’s rescue, it was him who broke the rules, who made himself known and showed himself to that monster. He was there as Dean regained consciousness, he was there as he tried to collect himself. He was there, wrapping his arm and his wings around those thin, shivering shoulders. And Castiel remembered the moment that Dean Winchester had surprised him anew as he had addressed him directly for the very first time.

First, he hadn't realized that Dean was talking to him in this darkness. »It's you.« Dean had said, but his voice had been hoarse and thin and desperate. »You saved me.« And Castiel had only pulled him tighter. He knew he had acted against the rules. He wasn't meant to interfere, only to watch and protect him from death. Everything that was happening to Dean was meant to happen, even the most gruesome things, to steel Michael’s sword in the flames of hell and make it strong enough to overpower Lucifer. And yet, Castiel couldn't have let this happen to this child. »Mom?« The question was so quiet, so tiny, so desperate that Castiel almost wished he would be Mary Winchester or at least could tell him that yes, his mother was watching over him.

As Dean returned that night to the motel, Castiel watched how John Winchester was a decent person for once and yet, he should have known that this moment wouldn't last longer than a few minutes. He watched how John took care of Dean in his own stoic manner and he could see how much the fury was brewing inside of him. For once, however, it wasn't the fury about something Dean had done wrong, but about what had been done to him. He listened to that boy stutter and stammer, trying to tell what happened without telling what happened. He couldn't say the word rape even and Castiel just sat there on the lid of the toilet and watched how John washed his hair and tried to wash off the blood from his son’s thin body. Only as Dean told his father that his guardian angel had saved him, Castiel looked towards him again. In that moment it dawned on him that Dean had sensed his presence the entire time. The feeling that started to blossom in his chest at this revelation was still unnamed and unfamiliar, but Castiel could say that he liked it. It reminded him of his time as a fledgling under the care of his big brother Gabriel. He couldn't even say why that was but this little teenie-tiny feeling in his chest almost felt like Gabriel’s smile had felt as he had taught Castiel how to fly or as he had just held Castiel’s tiny hand to lead him through the Garden.

And, of course, John Winchester would destroy those hopes of Dean again, taking the one good thing away from him that he had felt in his life. He wanted to yell at him, he wanted to scream at him, he wanted to rip him apart limb by limb as he was spouting nonsense at Dean, as he told him to man up, as he told him that people were the real monsters, as he told him how he thought about homosexuals, not realizing what this would do to his own son. He couldn't move as John left. He felt frozen in his spot in anger. He wanted to stay at Dean’s side, to curl up around him when he would lay himself to sleep, but as he finally found the strength to stand up, he was no longer there.

Castiel remembered this white room and that female angel watching him with fury in her eyes. He remembered her strict orders and her threats to subtract him from this mission and exchange him for someone else - Someone who was not as emotionally invested as he seemed to be. This was his first and last warning. The next time he would interfere, he would be taken away from Dean Winchester’s side. And he remembered how he had asked her with anger on his mind if God wanted Dean Winchester to suffer that much, if he truly wanted this poor child to go through so much pain and Naomi, that cruel angel with eyes as cold and hard as steel, had only smiled at him and send him back with no answers.

It would be years later that Castiel found himself in that room again. He had not interfered anymore in the past three years. He had done nothing, just watched as John Winchester had beaten his son, just watched how Dean Winchester kept struggling with life and the path he was taking, watched how John Winchester almost beat Dean half to death only to send him away for his recovery because he had caught him with another boy. He had still been there, still tried to comfort him as best as he could without ever coming too close, doing too much. He had spent years in the shadows, in the corners of dirty old motel rooms, watching that kid grow up into a man, his face already battle hardened with fifteen, taking care of his little brother as if he was his own son.

Castiel had been there as Dean got attacked by that ghost and not once left his side as Dean was lying in that hospital bed barely alive and yet not dead. He wasn't allowed to interfere as long as the chance was there that Dean would recover on his own. Yet, it almost broke his heart watching Dean trapped in that coma. Oh, how much would he have liked to go inside his head and calm him down but he couldn't.

And as Castiel finally did interfere again, it was not because of John Winchester’s pathetic little prayer to God but because he felt Dean slipping away like sand that was running through his fingers. This time, he was sure that they wouldn't call Castiel back. He had protected Dean from death. Yet, the moment he saw how Dean opened his eyes, Castiel found himself in that room again and he knew that he had fucked up. But this time, the female angel wasn't alone as Castiel looked at her.

»You’ve done a good job, Castiel.« Michael said from behind Naomi’s clean grey desk and though his voice was warm and gentle, Castiel knew that all of this was just a facade. The archangel Michael was God’s most ruthless soldier. There was no gentle core inside of him. He was different from Dean in many ways but that was the most powerful difference. Dean’s was a gentle heart and Michael didn't even have a heart. »But I think your duty is over now.«

»It is not!« Castiel found himself replying immediately and for once, he did not care for the consequences or for the way Michael raised his eyebrows. »He is only sixteen, there is so much more I could do for him!« He _wanted_ back. That was the truth. He wanted back, back to Dean. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving him behind like his father always did. It was true, Dean couldn't see him and he couldn't talk to him, but Dean knew he was there. How much would the betrayal sting if he wouldn't return? How big would be his pain?

»Castiel.« His name almost rolled from Michaels tongue like a purr. » _Shield of God_. You did well, but Dean Winchester does not need a shield any longer.«

»No, Michael, you don't understand that. Please send me back. Just for a little while longer, just to make sure that boy is okay. For your own good.« He was pleading. Yes, there was no denial that the loyal little soldier Castiel was pleading with an Archangel to go back to earth so that he could watch over a pathetic little human, that he would much rather do that than to go back to his actual duties.

»Dean Winchester doesn't concern you any longer.« Naomi said and her voice was much sharper than Michael’s before.

»Yes, he does!« He hissed as he turned his face at her in anger. »He does concern me!«

»You are too attached.«

»What did you expect?« He all but shouted at her. »You send me to watch over him and I was there from the day he was born! Is it now a crime to care? Father wanted us to protect them, to protect and serve the human race and that was what I did!«

»And you did well, Castiel.« Michael interrupted him again with a smile playing on his face that showed all his teeth. Michael’s true form was frightening and as he tried to imagine Dean’s face with that voice, he only felt the knot in his stomach tighten. »But as I said, Dean doesn't need a shield any longer. Now he needs the sword. Now he needs to become a warrior and that he will.«

※※※※※※※

Castiel wasn't there as Sam Winchester left his older brother and father behind to go to college and become a lawyer. He wasn't there to see the heartbreak in all of that. He wasn't there while John Winchester was dragging his older son from state to state on his never-ending quest to find the demon that had killed Mary or as John Winchester broke the promise he had made to at least try and become a better father. He wasn't there as John went missing and left his oldest son in turmoil. He wasn't there as Dean got Sam involved into all of this once again. He wasn't there as Dean almost died from heart failure or when he made that deal with the crossroads demon to bring his brother back to life.

He wasn't allowed to be there and keep watch and now Dean was an adult. He didn't need some quiet guardian angel sitting on his shoulder any longer. All Castiel had left were bits and glimpses of that man that was so unfamiliar to him after all these years.

It had been an eternity in heaven as one of God’s trusty foot soldiers until Castiel heard the call from Michael once again. The order was clear this time: Go venture down into hell and raise Dean Winchester from perdition. He didn't know why he should be the one to do just that or if it was just one more trial of Michael to see if Castiel could listen to orders without breaking the rules for once. Well, he couldn't deny that he had never been good in playing by the rules or just do what he was told to do. Growing up with Gabriel, however, that could not be that much of a surprise to anyone.

So, Castiel ventured into hell and fought his way through hordes of demons and monsters on his search for Dean Winchester. He wasn't the same person he had left all those years ago, his soul was no longer pure. Years of torture in hell had left their mark, years of Dean torturing others had left an even stronger mark and yet, Castiel saw that in his core, Dean was still the person Castiel had watched growing up. However, as he grabbed him by his shoulder and rose him from perdition, Dean had become a warrior - one fit for Michael to use as his vessel.

As Castiel was sent back to earth for his final mission to keep the sixty-six seals from being broken, he met Dean Winchester again and for the first time in twenty-nine years, Dean was able to see him. For the first time since his day of birth, Dean Winchester would not look right through him and yet, the person Castiel met that night in this dirty old barn, was not the same Dean Winchester he had watched over. He was full of suspicion towards everything, he was full of rage and pent-up aggression. Of that pure-hearted boy that he had protected was nothing left and yet, Castiel could only smile as Dean rammed that knife straight into his heart.

Maybe there was just enough left inside of Dean to remember him.

 

**-End of Epilog-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless plug! If you liked this fic, maybe you'll like my new Supernatural fanfic as well!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12683556/chapters/28919220


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